Seven
by Sandylee007
Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up to find himself in the hands of an UnSub and learns that there are several rounds of sick games ahead of him. Will he make it through them all? HEAVY REID WHUMP.
1. Waking Up

A/N: Don't worry, I'm not abandoning my other projects. But this story popped into my head and threatened to drive me insane so I had to let it loose. (smirks sheepishly)

WARNINGS: Quite extreme gore and violence, disturbing material. I'd say that the rating M is justified. General weirdness. Language. (glances around) Uh… Anyone out there?

DISCLAIMER: Oh boy! IF I did own something, I'd be jumping up and down with joy instead of writing fanfiction. (grins, then sobs)

Awkay. (shudders) This is always REALLY nerve wrecking so I'm just cutting the chase before I change my mind. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

**_Seven _**

* * *

Waking Up

* * *

Headache was the very first thing Dr. Spencer Reid became aware of. He groaned and shifted, expecting to feel his bed. Instead he realized that lay on a hard, wooden floor. In an instant his eyes flew open although the rush of pain such a brash action brought made him whimper slightly. He covered his face with his trembling hands for a moment, desperately trying to overcome the storm of agony.

How could it hurt so much when there was barely any light in the room? What… happened to him? Where was he?

Spencer didn't get any answers. Instead he threw up on the dark wood floor and passed out once again.

The room was even darker when Spencer woke up the second time. His head still hurt but he was pleased to discover that the pain was such he could tolerate. He was actually able to think. Although to be honest he might've much rather not investigated his current situation.

He swallowed loudly against the still swirling nausea that didn't ease the slightest at the smell of his own vomit. Trying not to glance towards the substance he looked around instead, turning his head carefully to avoid irritating it even further.

The room was slightly bigger than he'd first anticipated. It looked like an attic although it was impossible to be sure. So much dust lingered in the air that he coughed, for a few moments sure that he'd suffocate or die of the stabs of pain each cough brought. It took much longer than he would've liked before the fit was over and he could continue his research.

There were wooden walls everywhere around him. Walls that had absolutely nothing on them. The room was clearly a part of a very old building but there were no marks of those years on it; no cracks, paintings, anything. It looked like no one had ever been in the room before him. His eyes strayed with sheer longing towards the room's tiny and only window, only to discover that it'd been blocked with something from the outside. Only a tiny, extremely filthy lamp that hung dangerously unsteadily from the ceiling provided the room light. Spencer gritted his teeth, feeling a lot colder than before.

So that's why it was so dark. He wondered what time of a day it was. How much time had he lost? Spencer shivered and swallowed again, terror sharpening his eyes.

They'd just come back home from a case. That much he remembered. They said their goodbyes, all of them relieved that the case was finally over. Aaron Hotchner promised them all five days off – they'd deserved it, no matter what Erin Strauss would say. They departed, and once he sat into his car Spencer remembered that he didn't have anything to eat at home. So he went to a store.

Spencer's breathing grew a lot faster, as did his heartbeat. Yes, his body remembered this.

In the store he remembered that he'd forgotten his wallet to his car. He was only five steps away from the vehicle when he felt that he was no longer alone. He didn't even get the chance to turn around before there was a shockwave of pain, after which… Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.

Spencer's heartbeat sped out of control and he felt cold sweat rising to his skin.

This was a nightmare, right? Soon he'd wake up in his own, familiar bed. Safe and sound.

Derek Morgan would never let him live it down if he'd gotten himself into a trouble again. Despite the gruesome circumstances that thought nearly made him laugh out loud. This was all going over his head.

Spencer had absolutely no clue of how long he lay there. Perhaps he passed out once more. But eventually he came to a conclusion that he'd have to get up. He _needed to_ get up, _fast_.

That thought gave him at least some sort of a shove forward. Gathering his all he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then pushed. The whole world spun before his eyes when he was finally sitting up and he almost stumbled right back down.

For a tiny eternity everything kept twirling around madly, in a million shapes and colors, until the world finally settled.

Settled to the view of a skeleton huddled right next to the room's door, only three steps away from him.

Spencer _froze_. The entire world around him disappeared for a moment as the skeleton became all that fit into his mind. Then life rushed back into his already overloaded body, nearly making it tilt entirely. Spencer gagged twice, feeling a stinging sensation in his eyes.

A woman. The unfortunate soul before him was most definitely a woman. Blunt force trauma to the head, such that'd nearly crushed the skull. Several broken bones. Wordless tales of countless of nightmarish hours, full of torture and pain.

Spencer couldn't keep his body from trembling violently. For a while he was sure that he'd throw up again but the sensation died into his throat, blocking route from all words and oxygen. It took long before he noticed it.

A letter, attached to the skeleton's ribcage.

Unsure of what in the world possessed him into doing so Spencer got up shakily, instantly relieved by two things. He wasn't tied up. His legs actually supported his weight. He should've known to expect that the relief would be short lived.

'_Dear player_', had been written to the envelope in a neat, curvy handwriting. Spencer opened the letter with a beat of hesitation. He wished he hadn't as soon as he started reading.

'_In just a few moments our game will truly begin. It's the beginning of your journey towards the true peace of mind. Towards your redemption. There will be seven rounds before it's over._

_The journey, however, begins with a little test._

_The door beside the body of this pitiable creature isn't locked. You're free to go whenever you please. But there's a catch._

_You see, you're not the only player I've invited. In a room right next to yours another player has also been presented with these same rules. Both of you have the same terms._

_If you meet you'll both be killed. If one of you leaves, as a punishment the other is immediately executed, faces a slow, painful death. If one you does something stupid the other pays the price. Are you sure that you're willing to live with that on your conscience?_

_The decision is yours to make._'

Spencer stared at the letter, his still aching head spinning. He could barely breathe, let alone think clearly. His hands trembled so that he was about to drop the letter.

Was this some kind of a trick? A plan to make sure that he'd obey? Could he really take such a risk?

At that very second the room's lamp was switched off and it became completely, utterly dark. The small, screeching sound that followed made chills climb down Spencer's spine, caused a gasp to break through his lips. His eyes widened in the dark while the rush of his blood almost deafened him.

He wasn't alone anymore. And there was no telling what the arrival might do.

"Who are you?" he demanded, wishing that his tone had been at least a little bit firmer. There was no reply. He gasped once more and gulped upon feeling the presence approach. He felt the arrival's warmth. "What… What do you want from me? Why am I here?"

The arrival was still and silent. By then he could feel a breath against his neck. There was a person stood directly behind him. Hard as he tried he couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't shift even an inch. The arrival moved instead.

The first gunshot was so unexpected that Spencer's lips only opened, unable to produce a sound. Pain ravished his whole body, striking it into a state of shock, as the bullet pierced his foot from directly underneath his right middle toe.

With the second shot Spencer lost control over himself. As his left foot was pierced he yelped and realized that there was no way he could've remained upright any longer. Some tears of pain slipped to his cheeks when he fell to his knees, unleashing a barely audible whimper.

Why… Why did he end up into this sick game? Who was this person? What was going on?

What would happen next?

"And that, was round one", a smooth, chilling male voice half-whispered.

* * *

TBC, OR NOT?

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A/N: (shudders) And so it begins.

Or ends. It's all up to you, folks. Do you want this story to continue for another four chapters? **PLEASE**, leave a review – let me know! It'd mean A LOT to me to know if this is trash material or a potential, unfolding story.

Thank you so much for reading this far!

Until next time, with whichever of my works it might be!

Take care!


	2. Devil's Own

A/N: Yup, I'm back. (smirks) I must admit that this story is just about such me under. I just couldn't keep myself from typing.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for the AMAZING reception for this story! (GLOMPS) It's partly thanks to you I'm daring to get a little bit excited to bond with this ficcy. So thank you!

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) I suppose it's time to get going, no? I really, truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

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Devil's Own

* * *

Quite soon after the gunshots Spencer was swept into darkness. When he woke up the first thing he felt was sheer pain, ravishing absolutely all of his body. He groaned and closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. A shiver crossed him at what he discovered.

He wasn't alone. There, right next to the skeleton, sat a woman dressed in all black. He saw quite a bit of blood on her hands that were covered with white protective gloves. She'd pulled on a hood that hid almost all of her head, apart from her face that'd been shielded with a bizarre, black mask. Did the mask have any eyeholes? He knew there had to be although he couldn't see them in the room's little light. Her breathing was perfectly even and soundless while she sat there watching, waiting.

Spencer swallowed thickly, feeling discomfort that had nothing to do with the pain. What the hell was going on? What was she going to do? Where was the man who shot him?

He took a deep breath, bracing himself, then turned his gaze towards his injured feet. He blinked a couple of times with surprise upon discovering that they'd been bandaged. Some blood could be seen on the wrappings. He looked back towards the woman, wishing that his body hadn't been shaking the way it was. "Thank you, for treating my wounds." He lived in no illusions. He knew that he'd been cared for just to make sure that his body wouldn't give out before this sick game was over. But he was in the position where he had to take every opportunity he got.

Saying nothing the woman got up and made her way to the opposite side of the room. His eyes widened gradually while he watched how she moved loose board, pulling out a hammer and two massive needles, along with a wire that had long spikes.

Spencer swallowed thickly, sheer terror striking his previously agonized body numb and paralyzed. "Is… Is this round two?"

She shook her head, then finally spoke. "There's a one more thing you should know of this game", she told him. She sounded like she hadn't spoken in a decade, perhaps because of the mask. By then she kneeled right beside him. He smelled herbs and ginger ale. "This game consists of seven rounds. However, both Doctor and I create our own rounds. This is what I'm about start with."

Spencer's heart hammered beyond all control while she snatched his hand, prying his fist open. He attempted to speak although his throat had gone completely dry. "You… You don't have to do this. You don't have to hurt me." He tried desperately to find her eyes from the mask, determined to reach out to her. "I can help you. If you let me go we can leave this place, and we'll get you all the help you need."

She tilted her head. He could've sworn that the rather chilling sound he heard was her laughter. "What makes you think that I'd want or need any help?" Her hold on his hand tightened, enough so to make it painful. "Now stop talking or the other player suffers, understood? And hold very, very still. Trust me – you wouldn't want me to miss."

Spencer's eyes widened as he watched how she placed a needle on his hand, then raised the hammer and brought it down without a sign of hesitation.

The pain was unbelievable. She struck so hard that the needle went through his skin easily, sinking through tissue and going all the way through, attaching him to the wooden floor. Unable to stop himself Spencer screamed out loud, tears filling his eyes but not managing to spill. The shockwave of agony made him tremble so hard that he barely managed to sit up straight. In the end he gasped, desperately trying to think through the pain and focus.

"Are you still with me?" his tormentor inquired, tilting her head again. She lifted one of her gloved hands, showing him another needle. "Because we're not through yet."

Spencer swallowed convulsively, unable to look away from the needle. "You… don't have to", he managed through the still bubbling pain. "Don't let him control you."

He could actually feel the wave of rage that radiated from her. Her fists formed steel hard balls before she snarled. "I don't take orders from _anyone_." She took his unharmed hand, so hard that he found himself wincing. She struck the needle against his skin with such force that it almost went through without the hammer. "Least of all from a lost, pathetic creature like you." As soon as those words left her mouth the hammer fell once more.

Spencer cried out but didn't have the breath for an actual scream. There was more bleeding this time around. His head spun a little bit while he watched how red slipped out, staining the needles and the floor underneath his hands. It took all his willpower not to pass out.

His tormentor chuckled. "Well, aren't you a resilient little thing. I'm impressed." A hand brushed his forehead, making his body shudder. "Now that you're nice and fastened it's time to finish the round, don't you think?"

Spencer's breathing grew quicker but he didn't manage to bring himself to speak when she lifted the wire she'd taken before. The spikes seemed even longer up close.

He didn't know when his pants had been taken off and suspected that he was much happier without that information. He tried to keep himself from trembling and failed when she ran her hand up on his leg. For a moment she paused to caress his old gunshot wound scar, then continued upwards. "Did you know that some people use something like this for spiritual reasons? Perhaps you'll reach an enlightenment as well, if pushed far enough." She forced his leg up with a rather violent jerk and inhaled sharply. "Since your hands are occupied I'm doing this for you." Her hands were disturbingly quick and skilled as she wrapped the wire around his upper thigh. "Most people don't dare to go far enough to break the skin. But you're a special case, aren't you?" Then she tightened the wire, making the spikes go right through his skin.

Spencer groaned, black spots dancing in his line of vision for a moment. In an instant a flood of facts overloaded his mind, momentarily distracting him from the pain. Cold sweat rose to his skin.

There was a risk of infection now that skin had been damaged. Under these conditions it was a miracle if he wouldn't get one. If the wire would be tightened further there was also a risk of massive bleeding.

A stunningly gentle hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up towards the masked face. "You've been an excellent student", the woman complimented in a nearly purring voice. "Remember, the chain can be loosened or tightened at all times. It's entirely up to you and the other player." She stroked his hair, making him shiver. "Now rest. You did so well that you've earned it." So saying she left the room, not looking back even once. He could've sworn that he saw her limp.

Spencer attempted to stay awake, he truly did. But the pain, shock and exhaustion became too much for his body. The last thing he heard before getting swept under was a man's voice screaming. Or perhaps it was just a bad dream.

He really hoped that this was all just a nightmare.

* * *

The next time Spencer woke up he was alone, apart from the skeleton staring right at him. A tremor crossed him and he looked away, instead focusing on his injured feet and firmly nailed hands. He swallowed, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. He wasn't sure how worried he should've been by the fact that there wasn't that much pain anymore. Was he in a shock?

But oh, he most definitely wasn't free of discomfort. His muscles spasmed and screamed, displeased with being forced to stay in the same, uncomfortable position for too long. Trying to trick his mind elsewhere Spencer glanced towards the room's covered window.

He wondered how long he'd already been in this place. He was all too familiar with the fact that no one would be looking for him in five days. He'd told the team that he'd give his mother a surprise visit before their brief vacation was over and they knew not to disturb him. He was completely, totally alone.

Would he make it through five days?

Trying to shake off that gloomy thought he forced himself to focus on other matters. Whatever distraction he'd manage to get was most definitely welcomed. He frowned, gladly allowing his mind the chance to fly.

There were two captors, a man and a woman. The man had approached him in the dark, not speaking more than a few words, simply taking the shots. Almost like afraid. The woman had nearly exploded when he'd suggested that she was controlled by someone. She was the dominant one of the two. And she was a unpredictable master.

Spencer shifted and winced, pain pulsating in his injured limbs.

They didn't seem to know him, at least. After all he didn't have his wallet along when they took him and they weren't interested in getting to know him, humanizing him. He was glad – there was no telling what they would've done if they'd known that he was a federal agent. But… Why did they choose him? It seemed that they'd been doing this for a long time. What was their motive? What were they trying to accomplish?

His thoughts were cut when sounds erupted from the room next to his. A man was screaming, audibly in a great deal of pain. The sound wrenched him, went under his skin far deeper than any blade could. A tear slipped through without him being able to stop it. There was a series of thuds, followed by even more screaming, and he didn't even want to know what was going on.

There was no question about it anymore. He wasn't alone. Someone else was in this nightmare with him, and if he'd make a mistake the stranger would pay the price.

He wasn't quite over the terror caused by that information when the room's door opened. This time it was the man, staring at him through a mask that looked exactly like the one the woman had been wearing. The arrival's dark clothes disguised almost everything but Spencer did notice that he had notable amount of muscle. One of the man's hands had a confident, relaxed hold on a taser. The other hand held out a glass of water towards him while the man came closer and knelt down. Spencer found himself hesitating although he was incredibly thirsty.

"Drink", the man ordered. His voice was still smooth but Spencer detected a slight slur that had nothing to do with alcohol. "I don't want you to die."

Feeling some sick gratitude Spencer obeyed, leaned forward thirstily and devoured the drink once the glass was brought to his lips. That glass of water was easily the best thing he'd ever tasted. He wondered how long he'd been without anything to drink.

As soon as he was done his tormentor put the glass away in a ominous, not quite steady gesture. "I hope that you're ready for round two, now."

Spencer's eyes widened when the taser was brought to the skin of his neck. "You… You don't have to…"

"Shh… I've found my path to enlightenment. It's time for you to find yours." With that the taser was triggered.

The sound electricity ripped from Spencer's throat was nothing human. He howled like a wounded wild animal, squeezing his eyes tightly shut while the pain rushed _everywhere_. There was no way he'd be able to take a lot more of this.

"Don't scream, please", the masked man advised him. "Breathe through the pain. Embrace it."

Another jolt of electricity came, followed almost instantly by the third one. By then Spencer couldn't produce a sound. It was a miracle that he was conscious at all, although halfway on his way under.

"Do you see it already?" the man asked him, sounding curious.

Somehow Spencer managed to shake his head slightly although his whole mind screamed that it was a huge mistake. He was too much in pain to lie.

"It takes a while for some people. But don't worry, I'll help you."

With the fourth jolt Spencer felt his heart jump in a far from healthy manner. Felt his body grow exhausted. "Please…", he managed with the last of his strength. His eyes would've wanted to slip closed but he fought back. "Don't…"

"Don't worry", the man whispered, as though not having heard him. "You haven't seen the light yet. But you will."

With the fifth jolt Spencer's heart couldn't take it anymore.

For the second time in his life he died.

* * *

When Spencer came back to life the woman was with him. He lay on the floor, with her practically sitting on top of him, staring at his face intently. There was a horrendous smell of sweat, blood and what he suspected was burned flesh in the air.

"Welcome back." Her voice held a touch of irritation. "Did you really think that we'd let you go already?"

Dazed and still out of breath Spencer gasped, then lifted one of his previously nailed hands to see it. He was free once more. There was a bandage around his hand. He stared at the dirty, white piece of fabric in wonder, as though not having seen anything like it before.

Did he just… die? He couldn't quite comprehend it.

Dropping his hand he stared at her, trying to find her eyes and failing. "You… saved me."

She unleashed a somewhat amused sound, not bothering to comment. Instead she pulled out a knife. "I'm going to go easy on you with this round." She looked at him for a moment before continuing. "You should be grateful, you know? I'm doing a favor."

Holding back a snort was one of the hardest things Spencer had done in his entire life but he managed. He was too tired. Instead he swallowed thickly and pulled in a breath, wincing at the pain in his chest. "Thank you."

"Good boy." The knife was brought closer, closer. One of her gloved hands pushed his shirt upwards, revealing his stomach. "Don't… do… anything… stupid. Do you hear me? Because Doctor is right there with our other player. If you try _anything_, if you do as much as move or speak a word, there'll be a hell to pay. Is that clear?"

Spencer nodded, unable to do anything else although his whole body and mind screamed that he should fight as hard as he possibly could, for the sake of his life and freedom. It was absurd, really. He was a trained agent and all he could do was lay there, waiting for the unknown.

The blade pierced his skin before he could do a thing to prepare himself for it. White, hot pain traveled through him, all the way to the tips of his toes. His instincts kicked in and he couldn't keep his body from struggling.

In an instant the knife was placed to his throat. The woman leaned closer. "Do you want someone to die?"

Spencer shook his head and opened his mouth, only to have the knife move again. A jolt of pain after another came while she worked on his abdomen, her hands becoming slick and red with his blood. His unhealthily pale skin was stained by blood and his head was beginning to spin violently. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, all his injuries from the past sessions burning and pulsating. Flashes of familiar, comforting faces swam through his blurry mind. And he realized that he couldn't hold it back anymore. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"Morgan!"

The woman stopped working on his stomach. Instead the knife was brought to his forehead. "Scream all you want. Hell, curse me if you like. But don't _ever_ call out to anyone but Him. That… was strike one, right there." Unable to control himself he unleashed a tiny whimper when she carved an X to his forehead with the knife. "Get three of those and the other player dies. Is that what you want?"

A couple of tears of pain, rage and frustration spilled to his cheeks along with blood from his newest wound. "I… I'm sorry", he managed.

She nodded. "You should be. We chose you because you are lost, one of the damned ones. You're making guiding you to the right direction much harder than it needs to be." He shivered when she reached out her hand, only to discover that she'd just taken a mirror. "I made this mark so that you won't forget what's your fate if you don't find the light before it's too late."

She placed the mirror so that he could see a reflection of his abdomen. What he faced made his insides turn upside down. Through all the blood he could just see what she'd engraved with large, clumsy letters. Words that'd never fade from his skin.

_Devil's Own_

She took a large piece of white fabric, wiping away the blood almost gently. "Do you understand? We're trying to save you. We're trying to push you towards the right path, just like we were once guided." Apparently satisfied with her work she pushed herself up and began to make her way away. She switched off the room's light. "Now rest. It seems that we've only just began the work." With those words she was already gone.

The door banged closed, leaving Spencer completely alone and in agony into utter darkness.

* * *

TBC, right?

* * *

A/N: The game's getting nasty. (winces)

**PLEASE**, leave a note! Let me hear your thoughts and feelings. I'm currently in the process of falling for this story, so it'd mean the world to me to hear from ya. (gives one's most adorable eyes) Pweeease…?

IN THE NEXT ONE (in case you're eager for more): Reid faces the next three rounds of the sick game his very humanity is about to become tested.

**A QUICK QUESTION!** The solid idea of this story is forming in my head. Would you mind if I prolonged the original idea a bit, so that this'd be max eight chapters long?

**PLUS, TO ALL THOSE WONDERING...** I'm sorry to disappoint some of you, but there WON'T BE any SLASH in this story. At least in any romantic sense whatsoever. (sighs) This is just one of those stories where it'd feel out of place. But don't worry, there'll be other tales... (winks)

Until next time, everyone! Peace out!

* * *

**Steph**: Who am I to deny the wish of a begging person? (chuckles) I really hope that the next one pleases you.

It looks like poor Spencer's in for quite a nightmare. (winces)

Monumental thank yous for the review!


	3. The Doctor's Patient

A/N: I'm so sorry that this update took a little longer than the previous one! (winces) There was something I had to take care of first. But now I'm back with another chapter. (beams)

THANK YOU, truly, for you amazing reviews! (GLOMPS) Your support means the world to me, ya know? So thank you!

Awkay. (shivers a little bit) I guess it's time to go on. I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride! (As far as 'enjoy' is the correct word…)

* * *

The Doctor's Patient

* * *

Time passed and Spencer began to suspect that he'd been forgotten entirely. He was in the dark, without any food or water and almost certain that his wounds were infected. He needed proper medical attention, soon. Did his captors know that? Did they care?

He couldn't tell what time of a day it was, much less how long he'd spent in captivity, when he once again opened his eyes to darkness. This time was, however, different. He could tell in an instant that he wasn't alone.

Wincing and fighting back a groan of agony he shifted his body, just enough to be able to see a figure in the shadows. It took a while before he was able to tell that it was the man. The masked figure merely sat there, staring at nothing. The sight made shivers run down his spine.

He must've made a sound because all of a sudden the man's head turned. Eyes he couldn't see examined him for the longest time before there was speech. "I've been waiting for you to wake up. You've been asleep for a very long time."

Spencer nodded slowly, furiously attempting to figure out the right words. "Thank you", he half-whispered in the end. "For letting me rest."

"You need energy for the rounds to come." There was a long moment of silence while the man looked at him. "I try to get to know all the players – the game is more intimate that way. What's your name?"

He hesitated for a while. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer…", the man echoed, as though tasting the name. Another silence followed, this time lasting even longer. "Well, Spencer, now that we're sharing do tell me… Who's Tobias? You were muttering his name in your sleep."

Spencer shivered and felt a little nauseous while the nightmare he'd just had kept repeating itself before his very eyes. To be honest he wasn't sure which one was worse, dreams or reality. "He's… a ghost from the past. A very unpleasant one", he replied in the end, hoping that it'd satisfy the man's curiosity.

His captor nodded, pondering his words. "I see." Then, all of a sudden, the man moved and shifted a tray towards him. "You must be hungry. Eat."

Yes, Spencer was hungry. But he was also suspicious. There was a frown on his face while he pulled the tray closer with caution, then slowly took away the metallic cover that'd been hiding the food. The meat on the plate was obviously rotten.

He looked towards the other man, the frown still in place. "I can't eat this."

His captor folded his arms. "That, Spencer, is the catch here. Are you willing to do what it takes to survive? And trust me, this is a small thing compared to something else I could tell you to do."

Spencer stared at the food, the smell refusing to fade away into something he would've been able to tolerate. He stared, and the more he looked the clearer the realization became. There wasn't any real choice, was there?

He closed his eyes and willed his mind elsewhere as he placed the first piece of meat into his mouth. The taste rolled on his tongue while rancid fat formed a thick layer to his his mouth. He gagged dryly when the piece got stuck into his throat and trembled slightly.

"Good, very good. You're doing well", the other man praised him. "Just hold it down. Your body needs it."

Spencer finally managed to swallow properly but the rotten taste in his mouth wouldn't go anywhere. Praying silently that he'd be able to stomach it he took another piece, keeping his eyes closed with all his determination. There was no way he would've been able to eat the meat if he'd looked at it.

Two pieces became three. Theree became five. And finally the entire disgusting meal was inside him. He gagged again, forcing his eyes open. There was something bizarre, almost electric in the air while he and his captor stared at each other.

The other man waited for almost a minute, watched him stop gagging at last, before speaking. "That meat you just ate… It came from the player we lost before finding you. She lasted for a remarkably long time, almost to the final round. Perhaps you'll have some of her spirit, now."

It took a while before Spencer finally understood. When he did absolutely everything inside him froze. He experienced a bizarre, falling sensation while nausea swept through him like a tsunami.

That meat… Did he just…?

His eyes widened while a sickening realization sunk in.

_Oh no…! No, no, NO…!_

"Don't look so shocked, Spencer. You only did what you had to. And perhaps now you're just a little bit closer to finding the light." The man pushed himself up. On his way out the captor whispered to him. "You never appreciate life before you realize just what you're willing to do and capable of in order to keep it."

It was a struggle but Spencer managed to hold it together until the man was out of the room. No one was there to hear him throw up loudly, tears of rage, terror and frustration filling his eyes. No one was watching as he curled to the floor right next to the vomit, his whole body trembling violently.

Spencer wasn't sure if he believed in God. But he was certainly starting to believe in hell.

* * *

Shortly after those events Spencer was given something proper to eat. It wasn't much but he accepted it gratefully. He had no idea of how long passed until a yet another round was pushed into motion.

Sleeping properly with his injuries was a nearly impossible task. That's why he was only a blink away from full consciousness when the room's door opened. This time the woman entered. Spencer stiffened instinctively, his eyes widening, but didn't speak.

The woman looked at him. "You know, someone could consider that kind of a reaction rude but I'm in a righteous mood. I can imagine that you're tired."

Spencer swallowed, silently wishing that she'd brought him water. He was lightheaded and his body felt warmer than it should've. He wondered if he had fever. "Another round?" he inquired quietly.

She nodded, her posture perfectly calm. "This time I didn't come alone." She opened the door again, revealing that there was a heavily unconscious form of a man behind it. "I'm afraid that I wasn't entirely honest with you earlier. There was also a third player in the house. He was, however, so far gone from the beginning that we couldn't really count him in." She pulled the unfortunate soul inside, for him to see. "We found this lost cause two weeks ago. Despite our best attempts he refused to be saved." She sighed, appearing genuinely sad or perhaps disappointed. "We gave him a choice. To continue on the path to the light, or to take the easy way out. He took an overdose of drugs. In a few minutes he'll be dead."

Spencer's eyes were impossibly wide as he stared at the dying person before him. In less than a couple of seconds he recognized and something shattered to pieces inside him. It took his all not to emit a whimper.

The man was, without a doubt, Nathan Harris. (1) There were scars and wounds all over the man's nearly naked body. Nathan was drifting somewhere far away from the world, barely even breathing anymore.

Tears streamed down Spencer's cheeks without him being able to stop it as he forced himself to look at the woman once more. "What… What are you expecting me to do?"

"Lift his shirt", she told him. "Then you'll understand."

Spencer shivered when crawling with huge effort closer to Nathan, then taking a cautious hold of the shirt. The red fabric felt sickly moist in his hold. He moved the shirt slowly, reluctantly, and couldn't keep himself from giving a sound of ache and despair upon seeing the gaping, still bleeding open wound. Even if Nathan had survived from the overdose…

"There's something inside him", the woman explained. "I want you to dig it out."

Spencer swallowed convulsively, everything inside and outside of him trembling. It felt like someone had wrapped a rope around his throat. "I… I can't, yet", he barely managed. His eyes were full of pleas when he looked at the woman but he didn't care. "Not… Not before he dies."

"You have three minutes", she announced without a hint of mercy.

The tears falling even harder Spencer looked at Nathan's bloodied and battered yet surprisingly peaceful face, and could practically feel his heart break. Without thinking at all he took Nathan's hand and squeezed as tightly as he could, wishing from the bottom of his heart that the man had opened his eyes. Seen that he wasn't alone.

"Two minutes and thirty seconds."

Spencer didn't even hear. All he could focus on was Nathan's pulse that was fading steadily under his shaking fingers, on the man's chest that was barely rising anymore. And then it was all over. Nathan's troubled, tormented soul left this world without making the slightest sound.

This time Spencer couldn't save Nathan's life against the man's wishes.

The whimper came faster than Spencer could stop it, and he brought a unsteady hand to his lips to keep more from coming. The tears blinded him and it took a lot to wipe them away. Pain exploded inside him, taking his breath away.

"One minute and twenty seconds."

Gasping and choking on his breath Spencer outstretched his hand, forcing it into Nathan. The man was still warm. It was impossible to believe that he was really dead, gone. Spencer squeezed his eyes tightly shut and winced, struggling against the vomit rising to his throat.

_I'm sorry, Nathan. I'm so sorry…!_

Then his fingers met something small and metallic. His eyes flew wide while his fingers grabbed the item with some trouble and brought it out of Nathan. He blinked twice at what he discovered.

A key, attached to a chain.

"One day, when you're ready, you'll find out where that key fits. And then you'll truly understand", she told him. "Put it around your neck and make damn sure that you never, ever lose it."

Spencer did as ordered, still close to the state of shock. He couldn't keep himself from staring at Nathan's abused body. "Please…", he whispered, knowing from the start that he was taking a huge risk. "Please, promise me that you'll bury him properly. Make sure that he gets to rest in peace. Please."

To his surprise the woman nodded. "We will." She sounded almost sincere. Then she took a step closer. "But first… There's something we must take care of."

Spencer swallowed loudly, feeling sick to his stomach. "Isn't the round over yet?" Because if there'd be more to this…

"It is. But it seems that the other player has been breaking some rules." She kneeled to his level. He could smell smoke on her clothes. "We need to teach him what the consequences are."

Spencer eyes flew wide. "No…!"

She didn't give him the chance to finish. Before he could even move she took a firm hold of the wire wrapped around his leg and tightened. In an instant burning hot pain traveled through absolutely all of him, sweeping his mind blank. A cry of agony was ripped from his throat.

"Hold very still", she whispered to his ear, her hand still firmly on the wire. "This is going to hurt." With that she tightened again.

Spencer screamed as pain ravished his whole body. Warm blood trickled down his skin. A one more scream was crawled from his abused throat when she tightened the wire again. Someone hollered from the opposite side of the wall, despair and crushing guilt evident in the voice. Two fists banged the wall, as though a caged animal had been attempting to break free.

"Good. Good", she purred. "Let him hear you scream. Let him know exactly what he's done. Make sure that he never breaks the rules again."

The blood… It was coming a lot faster, now. He could feel it form a tiny pool beneath his leg. He unleashed a tiny moan but couldn't produce a proper word.

"_Please!_" Was it his voice screaming, or that of the other captive's? "_Please…! I'm sorry!_"

The woman's whole aura radiated pleasure while she measured him up with her eyes, clearly savouring the pleas she'd just heard. "His punishment has been served, now. Do you see? This is price of betrayal." She brushed his face with her hand, making him recoil ever so slightly. "Don't ever cause him the same pain."

At first Spencer's line of vision narrowed, became dark around the edges until he could only see a tiny, blurry glimpse of her masked face. And then everything faded away into darkness.

* * *

Someone was singing in the dark when Spencer woke up from a yet another nightmare. He opened his eyes slowly to spot a familiar dark figure in the furthest corner of the room. He licked his lips, then winced upon feeling a fresh sting of pain. Looking down towards the back of his hand he blinked with surprise.

A cannula, right next to a old wound that'd definitely leave a nasty scar.

"You needed antibiotics to survive." The other man sounded deviously calm but there was once again that slur in his speech, like he hadn't quite trusted his own mouth to function properly. "Your fever hasn't quite gone down yet but you're out of the woods for now."

Spencer nodded, blinking once more to get rid of the haze filling his head. "Thank you." He hesitated for a while before voicing his thoughts. "Your… partner. She called you 'Doctor'. Are you one?"

The man looked towards him and took a moment before answering. "Yes. I am."

Spencer shivered a little bit, trying to ease his muscles. How long had he been sleeping sitting up? "It must be hard for a doctor to harm patients", he hazarded, trying to calcute the risks of receiving a violent reaction.

Doctor didn't offer him one. Instead the man shrugged. "Sometimes pain is a necessary part of the route towards healing. It doesn't mean that I'd enjoy causing it." The tormentor's posture changed and he wondered if they were being watched. "Causing pain to cure is something I can understand. I can't, however, understand how someone could harm themselves and imagine that it's an escape of some sort."

Spence swallowed, his pulse speeding up considerably. "Why… are you saying that?"

"I used to be a psychiatrist, Spencer." Doctor folded his arms, tilting his head. "You can't even imagine how many troubled beings were brought before me, every day. I know that particular look in someone's eyes the second I meet them. That's why I'm so good at my current job. I can tell in an instant who needs me."

Spencer didn't manage to speak. Instead he stared directly at Doctor, his heart thumping so loudly that he feared it might jump out of his chest. His thoughts blurred and tangled together.

Doctor went on. "When I saw you leave that store I knew that you need me." The man's head was lowered ever so slightly, towards his wrists. "There are no scars so I can tell that you weren't trying to end your life, not really. And there are no new marks, which means that you haven't been cutting for a very long time. But you've crossed that bridge, at least once. And once you have… The itch never really disappears, does it? It's always right there, right below the surface, in your veins. You don't even think about it anymore but it slumbers in the back of your head and stirs whenever it's given the chance. I'm sure that you've missed your mark while chopping vegetables and imagined that it was an accident." The man focused on his face again. There was something in the air he couldn't name. "When did you cut yourself, Spencer?"

For a while Spencer froze completely, disbelief striking him numb. He barely realized that the voice came from him. "I… I was eleven. There… was a lot going in my life." He looked away, feeling humiliated and violated as the memories were forcefully ripped from him. This was the _last_ situation in which he wanted to share this but what choice did he have? "It happened only three times. I… I never dared to cut much past the skin but I was still so scared that my mom would find out. That my teachers would notice. No one ever saw a thing."

Doctor nodded, leaning slightly towards him. "Tell me, with three words, how did you feel after you'd done it?"

Spencer swallowed but that didn't ease the desire to throw up at all. He wrapped his arms tightly around his upper torso, futilely attempting to shield himself. "Scared. Embarrassed. Lonely."

"I see." To his utter stun the other man offered him a small paper knife. "Now, I want you to engrave those words to your arm. So that you'll never, ever forget if you feel the desire to take that path again."

Spencer stared at the tiny blade in his hold, his eyes wide and wild with adrenaline. Feelings and thoughts that hadn't even crossed his mind in decades came sneaking back, echoing in the back of his head. For a moment he drifted in a different, much darker time. And then he forced his mind back to the present. His eyes flashed, and then the blade was already moving on his skin.

"Deeper", Doctor ordered in a tone he hadn't heard before. "I don't want those marks to fade away in time."

Spencer whimpered a little bit while doing as ordered, his face twisting to a grimace. His whole body screamed against such a violent, senseless act but he didn't want to face the repercussions. By the time he was done blood stained his whole arm. The words were clearly visible.

"Very good." Doctor was almost purring. "Now, your other arm. I want you to engrave three reasons why you're still alive."

Spencer frowned, pained and dizzy. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you to ever forget that one, either." The air around the man changed slightly. Was he… scared? "Now hurry. You don't have a lot of time."

Spencer took a deep breath, bracing himself, then lifted the knife once more. He was startled by how easily it broke his skin. He had no idea how long it took to create the words – it could've been a full day, a week.

_Family_

_Hope _

_Future_

A hand on his cheek startled him back to the situation at hand. The touch was warm, gentle. "Don't collapse, Spencer. You need to keep fighting, until the game's through. Because I think that you just came a little bit closer to finding the light. You're a truly fascinating being." The man began to leave, the paper knife firmly in his hold. "It's been five days. The rounds are going to get harder from here." The door was closed between them.

Five days…

Spencer gasped loudly, his pupils dilating.

Five days. Soon the team would start looking for him.

He just wished that there'd be something left to be saved by the time they'd find him.

* * *

TBC

* * *

1) In case you don't remember… Nathan Harris appeared in one of season 2's episodes. He was a badly screwed up boy with whom Reid formed a bond of some sort. Nathan was terrified by his desire to kill (he never actually killed anyone, mind you). At the end of the episode Reid saved Nathan against the boy's will when Nathan tried to kill himself.

* * *

A/N: Uh huh… (takes a deep breath) I feel a bit dizzy after writing that. It was a quite chilling experience.

**PLEASE**, let me hear what you think! Loved it, hated it, yawned? Click the cute lil' button below and let me know.

Gah, I've gotta get going now. (pouts) Until next time, folks! I really hope that you'll be staying tuned for that one.

Take care!

* * *

**Steph**: Poor Reid indeed! (shudders) Five days of THAT sounds very, very long… And who knows how long it'll take before the team finds him once they start looking.

Oh, it feels so good to hear that you enjoyed the chapter and don't mind the idea of reading several more. (grins from ear to ear) 'Hope the next one meets your expectations.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!


	4. Pretty Boy

A/N: Hiya there! (grins) Honestly, I wasn't expecting myself to update this early on but this chapter was born before I even realized what was going on. (chuckles) 'Wonder if that's a good thing or bad…?

First off, though, thank you so much for those reviews! (GLOMPS) They make me swell with pride and joy. Writing can be a real pain sometimes, to be fully honest. It feels much better when I know that there are people eager to read further.

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) It's go time. Brace yourselves, 'k? This'll be a mean ride.

* * *

Pretty Boy

* * *

A soft, almost tender touch woke Spencer from his sleep. His eyes flew open, his mind remembering in an instant just where he was. For a single moment of bliss he tricked himself into seeing JJ's face but soon he distinguished the masked woman looking down at him. "For this round we're doing something different", she announced. "You'll leave this room for a while."

Against his sanity hope lit inside Spencer's chest. He ignored all pain while struggling to a sitting position, his eyes never straying from the woman. "Where… are you taking me?" His voice was weak, raspy. How long was it from when he'd last truly spoken?

"Not far. But first…" She pulled out a syringe that was filled with unidentifiable substance. "… you'll need this."

White, blinding terror swept through Spencer and his eyes grew to a impossible size. The rise of blood pressure made his cheeks heat up although his body became pure ice. "Please…! Please, no…!" he whimpered. _Not again…!_

It was of no use. A couple of tears strayed to his cheeks when the needle was plunged into him. All the struggle he'd went through… In a blink of an eye it was swept away. The drug burned in his veins like a flame.

"Get up, Spencer", she ordered in a far from gentle tone. "It's time."

Knowing full well that he had no other choice Spencer stumbled up, the drug and injuries causing him to wobble awkwardly. Without a hint of mercy the woman led him to a opening that'd appeared to the room's floor. How was it possible that he hadn't noticed the hidden lid? A twisted sense of curiosity taking over he peered in. All he saw was nearly absolute darkness.

"This…", the woman told him in a perfectly calm voice. "… is your journey towards understanding. Good luck. You'll need it." So saying she gave him a push.

Spencer opened his mouth, only to feel all breath leave him. And then he was already falling down, down, towards endless pits of black. He fell, and landed on glass.

Spencer was almost startled by how different the sensation of pain he received now was from before. Whatever the woman had given him was clearly taking effect. His eyes were wide and his heart thumped beyond all reason while he crawled in the dark on razor sharp shards of glass, pain tearing through his skin. He didn't want to see the damage, didn't manage to stop his racing mind long enough to be able to focus for a checkup. All he knew was that he needed to move, that if he'd stop now he'd never manage to push his body into motion again.

He moved with wide open wounds, ignoring stabs of pain, until he saw something that made him freeze entirely. There in the shadows, right before him, lay five bodies in different states of decaying. The were swollen beyond recognition and reeked so badly that he wanted to throw up in an instant. Maggots and flies were all over them, feasting on rotten flesh. Scarred and disfigured faces stared lifelessly at him, like macabre masks of death and suffering.

Spencer stared, the drug, the smell and shock making his head spin. His eyes glazed over and he was almost sure that tears filled them but none spilled. His lips opened but the screams echoing in his head wouldn't come out.

Was this real, or just a hallucination caused by the drug?

"_Look at them, Spencer._" He had no idea of where the female captor's voice came from, if it was even real. "_This is where it all ends if you don't find the light. That's how it's always been. This is where I woke up once upon a time and decided to fight for my life. I crawled down there, scared out of my mind and high as a kite, and decided that I couldn't just die._"

Spencer stared at the corpses, at the maggots. He had a strong feeling that those poor souls weren't even nearly all of those who'd lost this game. He took in their injuries – still scarcely detectable lacerations, horribly infected open wounds, visibly broken bones. In one horrifying, crystal clear moment he understood.

"It's… only going to get worse", he whispered to no one in particular. "Isn't it?"

"_Yes. It's going to get as bad as it has to._" There was a heavy moment of silence. "_But there's also another choice. Dig throug the glass in front you._"

The drug making it easy to work past the pain and blood he dug, to a point where his knuckles were torn completely red. He had absolutely no idea of how long he searched until he actually found it. His heart skipped a beat.

A bottle of pills. Drugs. A lethal dosage.

His trembling hand squeezed around around bottle, holding on as though it'd been his sole lifeline. Hollow humming filled his head and it took a moment before he realized that it was the rush of his blood. His whole head was buzzing.

Maybe he should just give up, take the easy way out. End his misery before it'd get any worse than this. Would it be such a bad thing?

Nathan Harris looked so very peaceful…

But then familiar flashes came rushing in, filling his whole mind. David coaxing him out of the disturbing world of hypnosis and memories. JJ and Penelope smiling at him. A hug with Aaron. Emily taking his hand. Derek ruffling his hair.

/ _"Reid, do not ever go away again!"_ /

Spencer gritted his teeth, his line of vision narrowing. And threw the pills as far away as he possibly could. "No!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The woman laughed. "_You're certainly one hell of a player_", she complimented him. It was the last thing he heard before even the last remnants of lights were switched off. It must've taken at least a day before he was taken away from the horrendous pit.

* * *

For once Spencer was awake before the next round began. He couldn't tell how long had passed from the previous one. He'd spent most of that time in a haze, barely coherent enough to realize that his fresh injuries had been cleaned up and stitched. His head was still buzzing and oddly fuzzy when steps approached the room's door.

Spencer stiffened, his gaze straying instinctively to the door. He was prepared for seeing Doctor. What he wasn't ready for was the little girl stood beside the man, a bright smile on her face and a heavily built canister in her hands. "I brought you a visitor", Doctor informed him.

The girl's smile brightened still. She was very pretty with her long, blonde hair and huge blue eyes. Very innocent. "Hi, Spence'. I'm Emma. I'm six and a half. Docto' and Auntie wanted me to see you."

Spencer looked at Doctor, unsure if he wanted the answers his eyes were demanding, then focused on the girl. It took his all not to let fear show. "Hi Emma", was absolutely everything he managed. He wanted to scream, to order the girl to run as far as she could, to usher her to save herself. But there was no telling what his captors would do to her if he'd speak a word out of place. All he could do was sit still and wait.

Doctor lay a hand on the girl's shoulder and she leaned just a little bit closer. "Emma is here to help me with this round. You need to behave exceptionally well now, Spencer. This is the first time she meets one of our visitors."

Spencer felt dizzy and sick to his stomach as he nodded slowly, desperately trying to convince himself that none of this was real. He wasn't very successful.

Noticing how upset he was Emma left the canister to Doctor and made her way to him, that sweet smile never fading. "Don't be sca'ed. Soon you'll see the light. Docto' and Auntie will help you." He couldn't keep himself from shivering when she pulled out a blade that had two sharp edges. Her tiny hands placed the device terrifyingly skillfully so that one end was below his chin and the other on top of his chest. Both tips were extremely sharp. If he'd as much as breathe too deeply… "Don't talk", Emma adviced him. "It'll hu't. I'll help you." So saying she took his hand and held on tightly, with such trust he'd never, ever faced before.

Spencer wanted to cry out. Instead he squeezed back, trying not to appear as horrified as he felt.

Doctor stepped closer. "Hold very still, now", the man told him. "Trust me, you wouldn't want me to miss with this."

It was then Spencer saw the letters on the canister. His eyes widened before he managed to stop it and his breathing became such that almost made the blade stab through tender skin.

Sulfuric acid.

Emma squeezed his hand even more tightly and rubbed the back of his hand with one finger, obviously not understanding why he was so upset. "Don't wo'y", she told him, child's conviction loud and clear in her voice. "It's ove' soon."

Slowly, slowly Doctor opened the canister and stepped behind Spencer. All he could do was sit absolutely still and attempt not to cause the child to panic. His heart was nearly bursting through his chest.

The pain came so unexpectedly that Spencer's whole body convulsed and even the device on his throat was barely enough to keep him from screaming out loud. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, tears spilling while acid trickled down his skin. The pain ravished his all and it was a small miracle that he didn't collapse. He anchored desperately to the feel of Emma's trusting, warm hand in his, only her presence keeping him strong. For her sake he remained still and firm.

He didn't know how long passed, couldn't tell even if he passed out from the absolute agony. When he managed to pry his eyes open again the device was gone. Emma was still holding his hand, Doctor stood a step behind her.

She looked at him with clearly visible worry. "Spence'?" Her voice was full of fear.

Producing the tiny, pale smile was the hardest thing Spencer had ever done with the pain nearly striking him to the floor. He did it for her, squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I'm fine, Emma. It's… It's over now." Gosh, how he wished that'd been true…!

Believing every word Emma smiled once again and nodded.

Doctor took the little girl's hand and led her to the room's door. "You did well, Emma. Now go and find Auntie. It's time for your nap."

Emma nodded, then gave him a one more wave. "Bye bye, Spence'." He knew that he'd never forget her smile or her eyes.

Spencer wished with his all that there'd been something he'd been able to say to her, that he would've been somehow able to save that precious soul, but the pain was just too much. Before he could do a thing the door was closed between them.

He slipped into surprisingly comforting darkness.

* * *

/**A/N: This fic is rated M for a good reason. Here's one of them. Read on with caution.**/

* * *

Spencer didn't know how long it took before he managed to wake up again. He wasn't entirely surprised by the fact that he wasn't alone, to find Doctor sitting right beside him. It seemed that the man had never even left. What made him feel cold all over, however, was the fact that this time there wasn't a mask disguising his tormentor. He looked directly to the man's scarred face, to a pair of pale blue eyes.

If there'd been any hope that he might make it through this alive it all faded away now. There was no way Doctor would let him walk now that he'd seen the man's face.

To chase away some of the fear he examined the scars on the otherwise quite handsome, approximately thirty-five years old male's face. There were three crosses carved to the skin of the man's forehead. Burmarks, most likely those left by cigarettes, could be seen all over his tormentor's bald head. Two more, even deeper scars went from the corners of the man's mouth to his ears. Doctor's chin was oddly shaped, as though it'd been broken and never healed properly. Now he understood why the man's speech sounded off.

Doctor gave him a smile that made his heart skip several beats. "I couldn't leave you yet", the man told him in a bizarre, husky tone.

Spencer swallowed thickly and would've wanted to crawl away but there was no escape. "Is… Is it your round again already?" What the hell was going on?

Doctor shook his head. "This is something I've wanted to do since the day I lay my eyes on you. I had my doubts at first but they all faded away when I saw you with Emma." The man touched his face, then something much more private. Spencer whimpered out of startle and protest, twitching instinctively. Doctor shushed him. "Don't look so scared, Spencer. I'll make it good for you, I promise. I'll take a good care of you."

Spencer's eyes widened and his breathing became frantic while terror made his heart speed out of control. Sheer, utter fear wrapped around his throat like a rope. "No…! Please, no, don't… I don't want…!"

Whatever protests there'd been building up died down when Doctor pulled out a long knife, trailing it down his chest. And then the blade tore his clothes, as easily as cutting through butter. The man's eyes carried lust that didn't seem even human. Doctor's whole demeanor changed while the man examined his body, taking in absolutely every detail. "My God, you are beautiful…!"

Tears filled Spencer's eyes as his fingers twitched frantically, his whole body spasming with desire to escape, to get as far away from the other man as possible. But how was he supposed to do that without risking another life? "Don't do this to me, please…!"

But it was already much too late. With such force that took his breath away Doctor grabbed him, forced him to turn so that he lay on his stomach. Spencer groaned and cried out when such brutal movements made his injuries scream protests. The first tears escaped, falling to the filthy floor beneath him. His body was shaking violently as he lay there, listening how Doctor worked on his own clothes. It took absolutely all he had no to throw up.

"I told you that I'd make this feel good." Doctor sounded impatient, aroused, angry, excited and apologetic all at the same time. Unwanted hands roamed on his skin, rubbing his back before exposing him and beginning to examine his behind. "You're just going to have to trust me. Let me feel your body."

Spencer squeezed his eyes tightly shut and opened his mouth but couldn't produce a sound. He couldn't emit a thing while the other man got bored with just hands and began kissing him, in the end biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. Tears kept flowing, hot and bitter.

"Open up for me, Spencer", Doctor whispered to his ear. "Let me show you how good it can be." And then, without a warning, the man made his move.

The pain was unlike anything Spencer had ever felt before. It was as sharp as a sword, hotter than any flame could've ever been. Spencer gagged but didn't manage to throw up. Pain mixed with humiliation, rage and sheer helplessness, forming a ball into his throat that seemed to suffocate him.

At that very moment Spencer truly, honestly wanted to die for the first time in his life.

Clearly mistaking his squirming for pleasure Doctor became excited even further. The man started shifting first slowly, then abruptly. Moans echoed through the room. The surges going through Spencer were almost enough to sweep him right under. He wished they had, so he wouldn't have been forced to experience the rest.

To him it felt like a year passed by before Doctor stiffened all of a sudden and unleashed a sound the kind Spencer had never heard before. It took about two seconds before he realized what'd just happened. He felt something sticky. A whimper broke out without him being able to control it. He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, desperate to free his mind from the situation at hand.

Doctor kissed his hair and stroked his cheek with a gentle hand. "Thank you, Spencer. Thank you." The man composed himself for the longest time. Spencer didn't think that he breathed at all while waiting. "Now, turn around. I want to see your face."

For a moment Spencer debuted his options, only to realize that once again he had none. Unable to stop the tears from coming he turned slowly, unwillingly, and bit his lip not to cry out when whirlwinds of pain stormed everywhere in his body.

Doctor smiled, stroked his cheek affectionally. Did the man not see his pain, his fear? "Just relax. Relax and enjoy."

Spencer lay perfectly still, feeling absolutely pathetic and disgusted with himself, while Doctor began his work. His body reacted to the advances against his will. The other man gave a sound of satisfaction. "Good, good…", Doctor murmured, leaning closer to his face. "You have no idea of how pretty you look right now."

Spencer shut his eyes again, wincing and unleashing a breathless cry when Doctor's lips met his most tender parts. He'd never felt anything quite like what he was experiencing at the moment. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to throw up. He wanted _away_.

Once more Spencer wasn't in control over himself. He couldn't keep the howl inside any longer when he felt Doctor's efforts pay off. He sobbed loudly, still unable to move. He'd never, ever hated himself more than he did just then. He'd never felt as filthy.

Doctor smiled down at him. The man's eyes were soft and cloudy. This time the kiss was planted directly to his lips. He couldn't help wondering if the man even noticed that he didn't respond. "I'm letting you sleep, now." The man got up and put his clothes on properly, his whole body more relaxed and confident than ever before. "If that didn't make you see the light… I don't know what will." Doctor headed towards the room's door without looking back. "I'll see you soon, Spencer." And once again he was entirely alone.

Even safely alone Spencer couldn't bring himself to move. His entire body felt like he'd been torn to pieces. Instead he buried his face into his hands and began to really cry.

He could've sworn that he felt a part of him die.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Ugh… (shivers) I seriously don't know how to feel after writing this. I actually polished the original version, made it quite a lot softer, so you can imagine what the original version was like. (gags) Poor Reid, seriously!

**PLEASE**, leave a review! They seriously make it so much easier to write further, especially since creating this lil' piece is quite disturbing at times and sends me to dark places. (gives puppy's eyes) Pwease…? Be kind and feed my inner Muse (or heck, tell me to delete this – honesty is the best policy, no?).

**A QUICK NOTE!** I've been observing with a great deal of worry and disappointment what's been going on around the site. If this story EVER disappears, it can soon be found from 'Adult Fiction net', posted under my good old user ID. Frankly, I've been thinking about jumping to that site entirely. But worry not – I'm not planning on leaving ya hanging as long as the choice is in my hands! (grins)

Until next time! I truly hope that you'll be staying tuned.

Take care!


	5. The Price of Sin

A/N: Oh yes, I'm back. (grins) I've been typing like a mad person for a couple of days now. My head's all full of Reid right now. I even dreamt of him. (smirks)

First off, THANK YOU, so much, for your fantastic reviews! (GLOMPS) Writing can be quite overwhelming sometimes. It means the world to me to know that so many of you want to read more of my tales. (beams) So thank you!

Awkay. (takes a deep breath) It's go time. Are you sure you're ready?

* * *

The Price of Sin

* * *

After his encounter with Doctor Spencer fell into a complete haze. In his case the physical pain wasn't the worst part. The most horrible bit was that his eidetic memory made it impossible to break out of those memories, to convince himself that it was all just a sick nightmare. He couldn't sleep and everything he ate came right back up. Days blurred together.

Exhaustion taking the best of him Spencer was finally almost falling asleep when the room's door was opened loudly, furiously. His muscles twitched with tension when he took in Auntie's posture. The woman's rage radiated all the way to where he sat.

Something was badly wrong.

"So, Spencer… I just heard some quite interesting rumors." She made her way to him, kneeling. "A word leaked to the press that a FBI agent has been taken. Agent Spencer Reid."

Spencer swallowed loudly, ice filling him. It felt like the walls had been closing in on him. "I… don't know what you're talking about." It was stupid, most likely futile. But he had to try, for the sake of his life.

Before he even saw it coming she punched him, so hard that a nauseating crack could be heard. He was too dazed to feel the pain. "Don't… lie to me. Understood?" She grabbed his hair, pulling him up with her so harshly that he yelped and whimpered. Didn't she understand that his body couldn't handle such harsh motions? Most likely she simply didn't care. "We need to talk. With this round… I'm expecting nothing but honesty from you."

Pain blinded Spencer for a moment, made his mind black out. When he was finally coherent, with his line of vision swaying but still, he was in a tiny, extremely filthy bathroom. There was a far from inviting bathtub full of water right before him. He could feel the water's coldness even without touching it.

"Get in", Auntie ordered in a tone that left nothing to be questioned.

Spencer swallowed although his throat had gone completely dry a while ago. "I… I'm sorry, that I lied." He couldn't bring himself to look at the woman. He could only stare at the water that'd gained a rusty shade from the ancient tub. The water looked just a little bit like drying blood. "You… don't have to…"

The push came faster than a bolt of lightning. Spencer hit his head to the tub's edge on his way down and for a moment stars danced in his line of vision. Then came the cold. The sheer, utter cold that took his breath away. He gasped, absolutely every cell in his body begging for an escape.

Auntie wasn't about to grant him one. She grabbed his neck, almost hard enough to choke him. Spencer attempted to fight but with his injuries and shock all he managed to deliver were some scratches. "First question. Do you work for the FBI?"

Spencer's teeth clattered. It was almost impossible to speak. Her hand on his throat didn't make it any easier. "Y-Yes."

She nodded. "Alright." She'd been expecting that answer which was why the next question came soon after. "Do they know that you're missing?"

Even in his barely conscious state Spencer knew that he couldn't be honest with this one. If his captors would know that the FBI was after them it was more than likely that they wouldn't waste time before getting rid of him – and possibly the other captive as well. "No", he choked out.

Without a beat of hesitation the woman pushed him below the surface. Spencer attempted to struggle once more, accidentally inhaled a unhealthy amount of the filthy water. The cold and lack of oxygen filled his line of vision with black spots.

Just before Spencer would've blacked out his head was pulled harshly above the surface once more. Auntie's hold on him was even tighter than before. "For your information, it's been nine days, now. It's only a matter of time until your little friends join us. Before that… I'll make sure that they'll receive a greeting they'll never forget."

Terror made Spencer's heartbeat rise until it hurt. "I'm not… letting you… hurt them."

Auntie actually laughed at that one. "Do you honestly think that you're in the position to give me orders, Spencer?"

This time he was under the water even longer than the previous time, or perhaps it only felt that way. Cold did its trick. He couldn't fight back at all anymore. All he could do was wait and pray that his tormentor wouldn't be eager to kill him just yet.

She pulled him up, as close to her masked face as possible. "I… am not going to let them catch me and lock me up. Not anymore. _No one_ is going to control my life. When they come I'm going to fight. If they're stupid enough to get in the way it's their own fault."

Spencer twisted his wrists with despair, tears leaking from his eyes. "Don't… hurt them."

"You can stop fighting, you know?" The wasn't a trace of emotions in her voice. Her hold on his throat was suffocating. "You're already dead." With those words she pushed him under once more. This time she didn't pull him back up.

Slowly yet surely he slipped away.

Slipped away, into cold darkness where he didn't know or even care if he was dead or alive.

* * *

Spencer knew, on some level, that he wasn't alone long before he reached consciousness. Someone was sitting beside him, humming softly. He had absolutely no idea of how to feel when he opened his eyes slightly and his vision cleared enough to allow him to see Doctor's face. The man didn't bother to hide his face anymore. For the longest time they simply stared at each other, both deep in thought.

Spencer's whole body stiffened while memories of their previous encounter filled his head. Would the same thing happen all over again? Or was the man there to kill him this time?

It seemed to take ages before Doctor spoke. "So… FBI."

Spencer nodded cautiously, knowing that lying wouldn't get him anywhere. "Yeah."

Doctor licked his lips, running a hand on his bald head. In a while the man took eye contact once more. "What, exactly, is it that you do?"

Spencer didn't know how far he could explain without taking a risk. He began quietly. "I… profile serial killers. Explore their minds. I help with catching them."

"'Them'?" Doctor's voice wasn't sharp but his eyes were. "You mean… people like me?"

Spencer swallowed loudly and nodded slowly, not daring to speak.

He was hurled against the wall so fast that he cried out with startle, struggling instinctively. Doctor's hold was stone hard while the man brought his face only millimetres from his. "Go on ahead, Spencer. Profile me. That should make an interesting round." Spencer's eyes widened when the man pulled out a exceptionally sharp-ended screwdriver. "Whenever you get it right this hits the wall. Whenever you get it wrong… Well, you're a FBI. I'm sure you know."

Spencer shook his head, blind panic striking him completely numb. "No", he breathed out.

The screwdriver was brought right to his eye. "Start… now." Was that… despair in the man's eyes? Fear? What was he so afraid of? "Please. Now. Before she comes."

Spencer gulped. He had to search for his voice for the longest time. He didn't manage to look away from the tool threatening him. "You… You've had mental problems since you were a child – most likely schizophrenia. But… You hid it well, you were never diagnosed. That's… That's why you managed to become a psychiatrist."

Spencer didn't breathe at all when the screwdriver moved. By the time it hit the wall right next to his head he was getting dizzy. Doctor's eyes flashed. "I've always known that I'm… different. Long before Auntie, and Bellringer." Did the man just inch closer? "More!"

It was hard to breathe, let alone think. Doctor's smell filled Spencer's head, clouding it and making him feel sick to his stomach. "Your father… He couldn't take it. Your mother… She raised you the best as she could."

The knife was plunged to the tender skin and flesh of his shoulder before he could blink. He yelped with pain, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He barely managed to focus enough to hear Doctor. "My father died before I was born. He killed himself. My mother was a pathetic drug addict. She had absolutely no idea of how to raise a child. She abandoned me to a church when I was five. That's how I met Bellringer." The screwdriver was twisted a little bit. Spencer whimpered, his knees growing weak. "Try again, agent."

Spencer gasped, desperately trying to think through the fresh pain. Warm blood trickled on his skin. "You… You were tested, the same… the same way you test people now." He inhaled and exhaled sharply for a couple of times. "Bellringer… He tested you."

Spencer gasped, unable to produce a sound, when the screwdriver was pulled out of him. A dull thud could be heard when it hit the wood, right next to his pelvis. "I owe everything to Bellringer." Doctor's eyes were serious and sincere. "Everyone else… They gave up on me, would've let me die. But he made me stronger."

Spencer stared into the other man's eyes, lightheaded and still breathless. "He… guided you. You… You were his… best student. You… saw the light."

This time he saw it coming, although he wasn't sure if it was better or worse from before. He could've sworn that someone else screamed along with him when the screwdriver pierced his leg, right above the still attached spiked chain. It sunk almost all the way to the bone. "I was never given the light! That's the price of my sins!" Doctor snarled at him, the man's face filled with despair. "Don't you understand? That's why I want to help others. I was never granted that gift. This, seeing others reach out for salvation… is the closest thing to it I'm ever going to get." There were tears in Doctor's eyes. "That's… That's why I want you to see. You need to see, do you understand? We need to find that light together."

Spencer winced and whimpered, the pain swimming everywhere almost more than he could take. His eyes strayed, spotting the scars all over the other man's arms. Self inflicted. "You… You tried… to find it… didn't you? That's… why you couldn't be a doctor anymore. Someone… Someone noticed."

Doctor's eyes were unreadable while the man pulled the screwdriver off of him once more, then hit it to the wall as deep as it went. Only the man's hold kept him standing. "She was my first kill. Auntie… She delivered her to me. Nothing's ever made me feel the way it did. I've never hated myself more, or felt as excited."

Spencer was beginning to see double. It was getting even harder to stay focused, now. "Auntie… She tested you, too."

The pain was absolutely everywhere. Spencer couldn't even tell where the blade sunk. "_She_, Olivia, was my first kill. But Auntie was my first player, long before." There was a chilling look on Doctor's face. "Three strikes. You're out."

Everything in Spencer's line of vision exploded to blinding white. In a moment of semi clarity he wondered if that experience was what Doctor meant when speaking of seeing the light.

* * *

It took Spencer a while to recover from the previous round. While he lay on the floor, struggling to keep his mind connected to the time and place at hand, his senses sharpened to what was happening in the other captive's room. What he caught made his skin crawl, hurt physically.

Hissing. Screams. What smelled suspiciously lot like burned flesh.

"_You've been marked, now_", Doctor's all too familiar voice announced, almost hollow. "_This, is to make sure that you'll never forget again._"

"_I've… tried to kill myself… three times, while I've been here. Twice… before this._" That voice… It was so familiar that Spencer shivered. Why couldn't his head form the connection? How badly out of it was he? "_What the hell… makes you think that… I'd stop trying now?_"

Doctor's reply came almost instantly, as though the man had been expecting the question. "_Because next time it won't be you I mark for your sins._"

At that moment Spencer's head began to catch on. The realization was so sharp, so unexpected, that it took his breath away. His eyes widened dramatically.

_It can't be…_

Something beyond curiosity caught a sickeningly firm hold of Spencer. Defying all exhaustion he forced his aching, utterly spent body to motion, pushed himself on all fours. It was then he noticed the hole on the room's wall. It must've formed during the previous round.

Spencer swallowed, shivering all over.

This… could be his only opportunity to see, to make sure. To know if…

In some miraculous way he managed to crawl all the way to the hole. Without doubting a second he peered in, not entirely sure if he really wanted to see.

There was dried and fresh blood on the room's floor and walls. In the middle of it all was Doctor, holding a piece of metal that was still red with heat. Before the tormentor was kneeled another man, with words '_Choose Life_' burned to his chest. The other captive's bare upper body was marred with cuts, bruises and scars. Spencer's horrified eyes traveled upwards, finally meeting the man's battered face. For three unhealthy seconds his heart stilled entirely.

For the first time in yeas he was staring right at Jason Gideon.

So far in a state of shock Spencer was, that he didn't hear the person approaching him before it was much too late. "Did you think that I wouldn't know?" Auntie's hissed words sent chills down his spine. "That I wouldn't understand that the temptation is too much to resist?"

Spencer turned his head, still shocked and dreading what was to come. "I… I just had to see. I had to know…"

Auntie nodded, deviously patient. "I know, Spencer. I get it. And that's how I knew to prepare this special round for you." She revealed what she'd brought along. Suturing equipment. "You've seen and spoken too much by now. I have to make sure that it never happens again. I must warn you, though… I'm not as good or gentle as Doctor."

Spencer couldn't utter a word, couldn't move an inch. All he managed to do was stare. His heart thumped wildly while his mind raced a million miles per hour.

_No… No, no, no, NO!_

Auntie kneeled down to his level. "I really hope that you're not afraid of the dark, Spencer."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: (winces) Awkay… I'm actually trembling right now, just a little bit. Poor Reid! 'Wonder what the final two rounds are going to be like…

I've gotta tune out right about now. BUT, first… **PLEASE**, leave a note before you head off! Pwease…? It's a beautiful summer day outside. Doesn't it just make you want to review?

THE NEXT CHAPTER is a little bit of polishing from done. How'd ya feel about a relatively quick update…?

Until next time (or should I say round…?), folks!

Take care and enjoy the summer day!

* * *

**Steph**: No worries, I got your reviews. (beams) It flatters me to hear that the story's still got you in its hold.

Let's hope that the team appears soon. This game's taken such a toll on Reid already. (winces)

Gigantic thank yous for the review! Until next time, I hope.

* * *

**Stacey**: Oh, I'm so, so, so happy to hear that you enjoyed it! (grins from ear to ear)

No, hun, you're NOT bad person. Just take a look at what I write! What does that make of me? LOL!

Colossal thank yous for the review! I truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride to come.


	6. The Darkness

A/N: Heh, ya know, I thought it'd take me a while to update this time but guess what? I got to it earlier than I expected. Cool?

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, for your uplifting and precious reviews! Reading them has given me a HUGE boost of inspiration, ya know? (beams)

Awkay… (inhales and exhales deeply) This is it, folks. I hope ya'll be ready for the ride and enjoy (in case you can actually use the word 'enjoy' here…)!

DISCLAIMER: There's a children's song in this chapter. I didn't write it, and me no own. (pouts)

* * *

The Darkness

* * *

This time Spencer woke up to complete, utter darkness. Instinctively he tried to get his eyes open but nothing happened. He only felt a stab of pain.

Terror washing through him he whimpered and reached out towards his eyes. That's when the memories finally hit him, as he felt the stitches and blood beneath his fingertips. For several moments his heart stopped, turning his body cold, before his blood began to rush with such speed that it deafened him.

His punishment, for seeing too much.

Some tears of terror, anger and frustration slipped through while he kept scratching, desperately attempting to get rid of the stitches although he knew that he'd probably end up doing more damage than good. Nothing happened.

Spencer tried to open his mouth for a scream, only to discover that it was impossible. Pain burned on his face and there seemed to be something sticky around his lips. His heart beginning to thump furiously once more he felt around with a extremely unsteady hand. In an instant he felt more stitches.

He'd spoken too much, too.

He was stuck in the dark, unable to do as much as speak. He'd just been tossed into his worst nightmare. And Jason Gideon was right there with him. Right on the other side of the wall, quite possibly without a clue of him being the other player. Plus there was Emma, a still painfully innocent little child who'd most likely spent most of her life with these monsters. A child who had to be saved, soon, before she'd be lost entirely. What was he supposed to do now? How was he going to get them all out of this? He'd have to act soon, before the team would find him and become victims of this sick game as well. He couldn't even imagine what would be waiting for them.

Barely stable enough to remain in a sitting position Spencer felt around with trembling hands, cautious to spot all possible threats. In a few moments his fingers met something slightly warm that had some chunks in it. A rotten taste rose into his mouth.

So he'd vomited, possibly right before she'd sutured his mouth. He wondered if she'd enjoyed seeing him react that way. He was almost glad that it all became dark for him after the first eye had been dealt with.

They were odd, the things he considered a blessing these days.

Still sitting up, albeit barely, he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, then brought his head to his knees. It took all his willpower not to start hyperventilating.

He just wanted to go home. He really, really wanted to go home.

Why wouldn't he wake up from this nightmare already?

As though mocking all his pleas and prayers steps approached the room. How did they know that he was awake? Somewhere in the back of his troubled mind he wondered if there was a camera of some sort in his room. It was highly likely.

The door was thrown open. After that it was quiet for a small eternity before Doctor's voice could be heard. "I'm sorry that I lost my temper the last time we met. I just don't like being lied to and things being hidden from me. I'm sure you understand."

Flashbacks Spencer wasn't exactly proud of flew through his head. The dark that spread through his veins when Emily came back, those words of venom hissed in moments of sheer agony… He nodded slowly without even noticing it.

"Good." Doctor sounded genuinely relieved. He jumped when a hand touched his face – when the hell had the other man moved closer? "Don't be afraid, Spencer. There's only two more rounds left before this is over."

Spencer swallowed loudly, pain pulsating absolutely everywhere. Something warm traveled down his cheeks. He wondered if it was tears or blood.

Doctor touched his hair this time. There was a moment of silence. "Do you think you can walk a little bit?"

Spencer calculated his options. In the end fool's hope overcame everything else. He nodded cautiously.

"Good, good. Because our next round won't take place in this room." He was hauled up with such force that he unleashed a muffled cry through sutured lips. "Shh, shh… Everything's going to be fine. Just hang in there for a little bit longer. It's going to be okay."

_No_, Spencer thought, unable to speak. _It's never going to be okay again._

Walking was agony but he did the best he could. The wooden floor creaked dangerously beneath him as they went. They took stairs down before he heard a door being opened. Doctor wasn't overly gentle as the man ushered him inside.

"This… is my final round for you", Doctor stated, like it'd been the most natural thing in the world. "It's quite simple, really. All you have to do is to make it to the other side. Emma is right there waiting for you." There was a screech of metal. "Now go. Good luck." The door behind him banged closed.

For a moment, perhaps for hours, Spencer stood rooted to the spot. Then he heard Emma's voice. "Spence'?" She sounded terrified. He hoped from the bottom of his heart that his tormentors hadn't been cruel enough to leave her into total darkness. There was a tiny sob. "Whe'e a'e you?"

There was no way Spencer could've kept himself from reaching out for her. His hand wasn't perfectly steady when he laid it against the wall, cautious for any signs of traps. He was surprised when nothing unpleasant happened.

Still cautious, his heart racing a million miles per hour, he took a couple of slow steps forward, feeling the floor with his bare foot as he went. It was agonizingly slow but also the only chance to avoid unnecessary risks. If he'd hurry…

And then Emma cried out. "SPENCE'!"

Spencer couldn't control himself anymore. He took a careless step – and a soft yet ominous click could be heard. His breathing became quick and frantic when he heard a slight screech until the wall he'd been leaning his hand against began to inch closer. If he'd been able to he would've screamed out loud.

He was in complete, utter darkness. And now the walls were closing in on him. How the hell was he going to make it out of this one?

He could hear Emma crying, all the way to where he stood. And that's what gave him the push he needed. Even if he was already lost there was no way he could let her die in this hellhole as well. Gritting his teeth he began to move once more.

There was something sticky and extremely sharp on the floor. A growl of agony crept up Spencer's throat when blood leaked from his abused, previously scarred feet. In the end the pain brought him to his knees. His body convulsed with agony when the sharp pieces damaged his hands, legs and knees. He was almost sure that some of the new wounds reached all the way to the bone. And with each passing second the walls came closer. Soon they'd meet his shoulders.

Emma was sobbing louder, now. "Spence'…! Please…!"

Something beyond determination driving him Spencer crawled on, shaking with agony and sheer exhaustion. Adrenaline stormed through his veins and at the moment he didn't want to think what'd happen when it would run out. He had much more important matters at hand.

Then his bloodied hand met something soft and warm. A tiny foot. He shivered as realization dawned. Those two had actually left Emma into this place with him.

She kept sobbing, her tiny hand touching his hair. She was trembling all over with terror. "What… What happened to you? You' eyes…"

Spencer would've given absolutely anything if he'd been able to look at her, to open his mouth for words of comfort. But at the moment he didn't have such luxury and the walls were beginning to press his shoulders. Time was running out.

Without pausing to think for a second he pulled her into his arms although he could barely handle her light weight. The exact moment her weight shifted there was a brand new click, exactly similar to the previous one. Emma emitted a scream of startle, both of her arms wrapping tightly around him, irritating several injuries. She clung to him like he'd been her sole lifeline and he fought not to pass out from the pain. Somehow he managed to draw strength from her.

It took exactly three seconds before he realized that the walls had stopped moving. Just then there was a loud bang of a closing door.

Doctor's voice came through some sort of a speaker phone that was most likely with Emma. "_What you couldn't see for obvious reasons was that there was a wide open door only eight more steps away from you. A door to the outside world. The second you picked up Emma the walls stopped moving and the door closed – for good. With saving her you sealed your own fate. You'll never, ever get away from us but as far as I'm concerned you did very, very well in my part of the game. Congratulations._"

"Did you hea' that?" Emma sounded excited, despite the fact that he must've looked terrifying to someone so young. "You won't go. You'll get to play with us fo'eve'."

Spencer hoped dearly that it was dark enough to hide his tears. Only the stitches on his lips kept him from screaming out loud. He'd never felt as helpless in his entire life, not even with Tobias Hankel.

He would never get away from this game, would he?

And then he heard Auntie, right behind him. "Now, let's go and finish this, shall we?"

Spencer felt a hot, stinging sensation that made him hiss just a little bit. And then everything became hazy.

* * *

Spencer was led into a yet another room. Whatever Auntie gave him made him so drowsy that he couldn't fight back when he was tied from wrists and ankles to a bed of some sort. He was almost sure that for a moment he felt someone stroking his hair. Whether it was his imagination or not he found some comfort from the touch.

He then swallowed thickly, a flash of Emma's voice echoing in his head.

As though reading his mind Auntie spoke. "Don't worry, Emma isn't anywhere near us – your previous round startled her a little bit and she needed time to calm down." He felt something sharp on his neck and didn't dare to pull in a breath. "This… is just for the three of us, Spencer. This is Jason's round, too. He's watching you. So be brave, understood? Make him proud."

The sharp object moved downwards from his neck. Apparently the drug given to him was taking a even stronger hold because he wasn't scared anymore. He couldn't feel anything, really. The voices and physical sensations seemed to belong to a whole another world. Pain, terror, exhaustion… He was finally free of them.

"I did some research", Auntie told him. "That unit chief of yours – Aaron Hotchner, right? – was stabbed. Nine times, I believe." The sharp object, without a doubt a knife of some sort, paused to his chest. "I'd like try and break that record with you. To see just how strong this game of ours has made you."

Pain exploded inside Spencer's body but didn't really register to his mind. He was rather mystified than worried by the sensation of blood flowing down his skin. All the while Auntie kept humming. It was the song that actually reached him.

"_Five little mice came out to play__, gathering crumbs along the way…_" She stabbed again while singing, without a trace of change in her tone. She twisted the knife, making agony go through him in electric jolts. Still he couldn't feel fear. "_Out came pussycat sleek and fat__, four little mice go scampering back._"

Was he… crying? He couldn't really understand why. This wasn't actually happening, not to him, not to his body. He'd just have to breathe through the pain. Soon this would all be over. Soon he'd be able to open his eyes.

The third stab was different, sunk deeper. This time he actually emitted a muffled, strangled sound of discomfort. Dreams… They weren't supposed to hurt this much. "_Three little mice came out to play__, gathering crumbs along the way. Out came pussycat sleek and fat. Two little mice go scampering back._"

Spencer's mind wasn't reacting to the pain all that much but his body was. His heart hammered mercilessly and blood rushed, inside him and down his skin in small rivers. How much blood could a person lose before…? Shouldn't he know that?

Auntie kept singing while she delivered three more stabs, calculating each strike carefully. Her hands trembled with pleasure, making the knife do the same. She breathed loudly, as though inhaling the scent of his blood. Although he barely understood what was going on his stomach twisted with nausea.

Auntie leaned closer, whispering the lyrics to his ear. "_One little mouse came out to play…_" She plunged the knife down, as deep as she could. "_Gathering crumbs along the way._"

Spencer wasn't sure if the voices that echoed quietly in the background were real or not. There were running steps, sounds of a struggle, snarled orders

Almost like…

Auntie didn't seem to care. Stab number eight came swiftly, with skill and dedication. "_Out came pussycat sleek and fat…_" She struck again almost instantly, as though she'd been running out of time all of a sudden.

Spencer's mind was slipping deep, deep into darkness already. He felt like he'd been lingering between two worlds. Somewhere in that surreal place he heard Derek Morgan's comfortingly familiar voice. "_Put the gun down and keep your hands where I can see them!_"

A set of gunshots echoed. He didn't know if they were real or not, didn't even manage to care too much. He just wanted to sleep.

Two more gunshots. A scream.

On his way down Auntie's voice was the last thing he herd. She delivered a one more stab. "_No little mice go scampering back_", she whispered.

White engulfed him, swallowing him in whole.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh… dang! (winces) Poor, poor Reid. 'Wonder what's gonna happen to him next. Did the team really get there? If they did are they okay – and will they make it to him before it's too late?

**PLEASE**, leava a note! Awww, c'mon, ya know how excited hearing from you makes me. (gives puppy's eyes)

**ONLY TWO MORE TO GO!**

Until next time, my friends! I really hope that you'll feel up to reading a lil' bit more.

Take care!

* * *

**Steph**: I did? Yosh! (grins)

Reid definitely needs his team right now. (winces) Let's hope that they get there soon, before the poor genius is actually gone.

HUGE thank you for the review! See ya with the next one?

* * *

**The Reaper Weeps**: You are, hmm? That's good. But we'll see just how far this madwoman is about to take her 'round'…

Gigantic thank yous for the review!


	7. Game Over

A/N: (I hope that this doesn't take place during the blackout, but this was my ONLY chance to update this one, so…) (winces)

Yup, I'm back. (grins) 'Couldn't leave you hanging for longer than this. BUT, first of all…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all those amazing reviews! (glomps) They all mean A LOT to me. I promise to do my best not to let ya down.

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) This'll be a long chappy, so I hope you're all ready. Enjoy?

* * *

Game Over

* * *

At the age of fifty-two there were days when detective Jonathan Brass seriously wondered if he should've made a different choice of career. That rainy, exceptionally dark day was definitely one of them. He watched with narrowed eyes how a yet another bodybag was carried past him.

"How many?" he demanded in an instant when steps paused beside him.

His partner, detective Ava Fuentes – whose twenty-eight years old brown eyes had already seen far too much – sighed heavily. "The latest count is thirty-two, including Myers. But that number's going to rise."

Jonathan gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of cold.

Dr. Stan Myers. A psychiatrist and a serial killer who'd started this sick game for reasons they could only begin to guess. Soon they might have answers, though. There was a possibility that one of the two victims they'd actually found alive would pull through.

A fool's hope, but hope nonetheless.

"Any word from the hospital?" he inquired, his tone low with all the emotions he forced down to the back of his throat.

Ava rubbed her face with one hand while shaking her head. Obviously she didn't care if there'd be nothing left of her makeup once she was done. Not that a woman with her looks would've had to. If Jonathan himself had been younger… "Not yet. But… You saw the condition they were in. Do you honestly think that they stand a chance?"

Jonathan's jaw tightened. He didn't really want to answer. Instead he shivered and looked around him, taking in the blood stained wooden walls.

In his opinion the mutilated corpses weren't the worst part, no matter how many there were and how young some of the victims seemed. Even all the blood didn't get to him that much. He'd seen too much of it during his career. Nor was it the reek of death and rotten flesh. He'd investigated a million crime scenes and not all of the victims had died recently. The toys they found from one room made him want to throw up. He preferred not thinking of what'd happened to the child or children they'd been brought for. It was, however, the very air in the house that _chilled_ him. All those taken lives, all those violently butchered souls… It felt like they hadn't left, not really.

This one was definitely a house of horrors. For the first time since his childhood Jonathan believed with all his heart that a place could be haunted.

"Brass! Fuentes!" The voice of Tony Scavo, their protégé and rookie, was full of sheer shock. Considering the horrors around them it wasn't a huge surprise. But for one reason or another the hair in the back of Jonathan's neck rose. "You've gotta see this!"

He exchanged a loudly speaking look with Ava before they began to move, hands on their guns. Both of them wondered the same. What more could there possibly be?

They got their answer as soon as they entered the tiny, almost completely dark room. It wasn't the blood splashed all over the walls and the floor that got to them – they'd seen far worse inside this hellhole already. It was the chair.

It was made of hard, sturdy wood and bolted to the floor so heavily that there probably wasn't a tool that would've been able to pull it off. There were metallic restraints fastened to it – restraints that had bloodied spikes on them. Major arteries, Jonathan realized. If the one tied up would've tried to break free on their own they would've bled to death. The wood had been scratched, so hard that some fingernails had been pulled off. The chair was dark and moist with blood, urine and something else. Ammonia could be smelled in the room's suffocatingly heavy air.

And there, in the room's corner, was a forgotten TV. The screen was completely black apart from the blood red letters that'd appeared.

'_GAME OVER_'

It was Ava who voiced what they were all thinking. "What the fuck has happened in this house?"

* * *

After all the horrors he'd faced Spencer savoured the soft, white light he floated in. There was no cold, no pain. No fear. It didn't matter that he knew that he should've been fighting to get back… to what, really? He was in heaven.

He heard voices but was fairly sure that they belonged to another world entirely.

'_We're losing him!_'

'_… vitals are stable, for now._'

'_… five minutes…_'

'_C'mon, kid. Just hang in there. Come back to us, okay?_'

'_Please wake up._'

Until suddenly, one voice was louder. Clearer. More real. "Spence."

Spencer's heart jumped at the sound of that static female voice. In an instant horrifying memories flashed through his head. Somewhere nearby a beeping sound grew almost frantic.

_Emma…?_

He tried to speak out until he felt the pain in his lips and remembered. He'd spoken too much. He wouldn't be allowed to say another word.

The beeping was hysterical.

"Spence, it's… It's okay. You're safe now." A soft, gentle hand took his. A familiar hand. And finally, finally he recognized. _JJ…?_ "We're all safe. Just… Just stay with me, for a moment. Before you go back to sleep. Please?"

Spencer didn't have the heart to deny her anything. He tried to nod but wasn't sure if he actually managed to do anything. It was so very hard to stay awake…

Or perhaps this was all a dream, after all.

Real or not he clung to the feel of her touch, to her comforting warmth. Little by little the beeping calmed down.

"I know that it's much too soon, but… The police is getting restless. They want to know what happened." She swallowed so loudly that he heard it. "I… need to ask you a couple of questions."

The beeping grew faster once more while terror made his heart take an extra beat.

_No… No, please…! Don't make me…_

"I'm so sorry, Spence. I'm sorry. But… But if I don't do this…"

_… then someone else will_, Spencer's cloudy mind filled in bitterly. And so he lay there and listened, without any other choice. Which was something he'd grown sadly accustomed to during the past who knows how many days.

JJ waited for the beeping to calm down a little bit before she began. Her hand never left his. "We… We know that you were taken from the parking lot, when we came back home from that case. Garcia… She got us the surveillance footage." JJ spoke as though it'd hurt to talk, which was most likely the case. He would've given a lot if he would've been able to console her, to at least look at her. She cleared her throat. "A… A man named Morgan Fiennes started this whole game. He used to work in a church. The first clues… They led us to him." She took a breath. "His body was placed to what looked like an altar. It'd been embalmed with great skill. He was called Bellringer and… Doctor was trained by him. Was… Was Doctor your captor?"

Flashes filled his head once more, striking him breathless with their merciless force. Something warm slid down his cheeks while he inhaled and exhaled rapidly, nearly hyperventilating. The one squeeze he gave was frantic, desperate.

"Okay. Okay." Were those… tears he heard? He didn't want to make JJ cry. It was quiet for a while before she went on. "What… we don't understand is 'why?'. While… you were there… Did they tell you why they took you?"

Once again the beeping sped up while unpleasant memories took over. Spencer's body squirmed while he squeezed as tightly as he could.

/ _"You can't even imagine how many troubled beings were brought before me, every day. I know that particular look in someone's eyes the second I meet them. That's why I'm so good at my current job. I can tell in an instant who needs me. When I saw you leave that store I knew that you need me."_ /

"Shh, Spence… Shh… Everything's okay. You… You're safe now. Just… Just relax. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." JJ took a deep, shuddering breath, bracing herself. "Your captor… Did you ever see his face? Would you recognize him?"

Spencer felt like someone had just kicked him. Once more the beeping grew frantic. He squeezed JJ's hand convulsively, terror making his heart hammer furiously.

Didn't they know…?

"Is that a yes, or no? Spence, I don't…" And then it hit her. She shuddered. "Were there two of them?"

He squeezed once, as hard as he could. If possible the beeping kept speeding up. Terror balled into his throat, almost suffocating him. Then he squeezed again. And again. And again.

Auntie… She was still out there. She could…

"No, no, no! Spence, please, don't go back to sleep yet." She held his hand just a little bit tighter and he was vaguely aware of the pain it caused. It was the only thing keeping him awake – supposing that he was actually awake. "Was… Was the other captor also a man?"

Desperate to reach out to her, to warn her, Spencer attempted with all his might to squeeze her hand twice. He wasn't sure if he actually succeeded. He was already falling back into the all too familiar hue.

"…Spence…!"

He couldn't hear or feel anything anymore. It was chillingly comforting.

* * *

It was on day six from finding that house Jonathan Brass finally got the call he'd been waiting for. One of the two captives they'd found alive was finally in the condition to answer questions. He sped to the hospital as fast as he could, tempted to put the siren on.

Outside the captive's room a elderly nurse – Tara, her nametag announced – was waiting for him with a stone hard expression, her arms folded. "The patient may be awake and coherent. But _do not_ push too hard, understood? We barely managed to keep this poor soul alive. Don't damage our hard work."

Jonathan nodded meekly. Inside the hospital's walls Tara had all the power. He needed to respect that. "I won't. Thank you." With that he entered the room, all too aware of the fact that the nurse's eyes were on him until he closed the door between them.

He entered, and faced Mandy Logan.

He wasn't overly surprised by the guarded look on her face. Fear was a perfectly normal reaction considering the fact that she'd been held hostage and tortured for who knows how long, then stabbed six times and left to bleed to death. He tried not to stare at her but it was almost impossible. Her long, black hair hid some of her face but he still noticed the burn marks. One impossibly green eye examined him intently, a scar ran past the other, obviously blind milky white one. The most vivid visible scars, however, were those on her arms. Jonathan couldn't tell what they'd been done with but several of them seemed deep enough to reach the bone. He didn't even want to know how many scars there were that he couldn't see. Without all those battle scars… she would've been a strikingly beautiful twenty-five year old.

"It's impolite to stare." Her voice was stunningly clear, considering how long she'd spent in captivity. Myers must've spoken with her.

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry. It's just… incredible what you've made it through." Realizing that he hadn't introduced himself yet he pulled out his badge and showed it to her. "I'm detective Jonathan Brass, from the local police."

She gave him a wry smile, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't see too well, so I'll just have to take your word on that." She frowned. "I don't really understand why you're here, though. Myers is dead. Isn't the case closed?"

Jonathan offered the visibly tense woman another smile, trying to help her calm down. "I'm just trying to wrap things up. This… is the biggest case I've ever faced. Probably the biggest one ever in this district."

Mandy's eyebrow bounced up. "I guess that's a fairly solid conclusion with that many bodies piled up."

He shrugged. In a few moments he dared to make the first question. "I just… can't help feeling like we've missed something." He sat down. "Do you… remember being taken?"

Mandy nodded, focusing on her bandaged hands. "I… I have no idea of how long ago it was. I was so out of it at the time that it's little I do remember." She showed him the other side of her arms. There were long, clearly self-inflicted scars. Some of them ran past her wrists. "I… I honestly thought that I wanted to die, you know? I didn't want to live until Doctor showed me the light."

Jonathan frowned. "Doctor? As in Myers?"

Mandy nodded again, licked her lips. Her hands were shaking while she got lost into the memories. "I… don't remember much of being taken – I was high at the time. I was on my way back to the basement where I'd slept in for the past week when someone called out to me. Then… Nothing. I woke up in a tiny room. Doctor was there."

Jonathan swallowed, shivering slightly. "That's how your game began."

Finally Mandy looked directly at him. He'd never seen the kind of a expression he did just then. It was impossible to read. "It's much more than just a game, detective. You won't understand until you've played."

Jonathan felt chills at that. There was tingling underneath his skin. "You're right, you know? A lot of people died there. How did you survive for so long?"

Mandy's expression was unreadable. "That's simple. I just played better than the others."

The tingling intensified, burned. Finally Jonathan was ready to ask the question he'd come for. "Do you think that it's possible that there were more than just one captor?"

Mandy blinked twice. Her mouth opened but before she could voice a thing there was a knock on the room's door. He gave her an apologetic look, seething inside. "I'm sorry. I'll be right back."

Mandy merely gave him a tiny wave. Taking a breath he left the room to find nurse Tara waiting. He frowned. "I wasn't pushing her too hard."

Tara shook her head, leading him to the nurses station. "That's not it." She handed him a piece of paper. "A FBI agent, Jareau, asked me to deliver this to you, since this is officially your case now. She said that now you can leave Dr. Reid alone."

The frown on his face deepening Jonathan folded the paper open. What he saw made absolutely everything inside him freeze.

'_We were right. There were two killers. One of them was a woman._'

Words he'd just heard echoed in his ears.

/ _"I didn't want to live until Doctor showed me the light."_ /

/ _"I just played better than the others."_ /

/ _"It's much more than just a game, detective."_ /

His eyes widened while his heart nearly stilled in his chest. "Jesus…!" With that he barged into the room. Only to discover that there wasn't a trace left of Mandy Logan.

/ _"You won't understand until you've played."_ /

* * *

Spencer's comforting, white light was disturbed. It wasn't a place of peace and serenity anymore. Nightmares sneaked in, like a snake into the Garden of Eden.

He was back with Doctor and Auntie. Beaten, tortured, violated. He cried, begged and prayed but nothing helped. Jason died. He died, slowly and painfully, far more times than he could count. The cycle spun on endlessly.

Perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise that he woke up to his own scream. In a overwhelming, chaotic flash he became aware of two things.

He was awake. He was in pain, in more of it than ever. But he was also actually able to open his mouth again, to scream. He screamed again, just because he finally could, unleashing all the agony and terror that'd been building up inside him during his time in hell.

He screamed, again, again and again, until he didn't even really have a voice anymore.

He wondered how long the hand had been squeezing his until he actually felt it, how many times the voice had been calling out to him. "Reid! Reid!" The hand tightened. "Kid, c'mon. You were having a bad dream, that's all. Wake up."

Just _a bad dream?_, he wondered, rather with confusion than bitterness. No, it wasn't a dream. For far too many days it was his life. Almost.

His breathing hitching with panic he ripped his hand free from the hold and brought both of his hands to his face, his whole body shaking violently. Flashbacks came flooding in, so vivid and sharp that his breathing became nothing but pained gasps.

He didn't realize what he was doing until Derek grabbed his wrist, as tightly as the man dared to. It shocked him a little that the feeling of someone restraining him forcefully felt perfectly normal. Almost… safe. "Hey, hey! Stop that, okay? Stop. Your face bleeds."

Slowly yet surely the pain radiating from the scratches he'd just torn to his skin registered, blending perfectly to the pain in the rest of his body. He sobbed once, unable to produce tears, and fought furiously to get his breathing back under control. To regain any control over his body and soul at all.

They were both silent for the longest time, needing the time to gather themselves, until Derek spoke quietly. The man's voice wasn't perfectly steady. "You… can talk now, Reid. And you can open your eyes. I need you to look at me."

It was a huge struggle, mostly because Spencer was terrified of finding out if he could see at all after Auntie's handling. It didn't make things any easier that at the moment he had the physical strength and stamina of your average newborn. But he obeyed, followed the rules, in the end managing to force his eyes slightly open. At first all he could see was blur. Then, just before he began to panic once more, Derek's face cleared. The older agent looked like he hadn't been sleeping in a month. Was it possible that the man had been crying? And then Spencer noticed the sling, supporting Derek's left arm. His eyes widened.

Instantly noticing his distress Derek offered him a tiny, rather weak smile. "It's just a scratch. I'm okay. We're all okay." The man's eyes darkened, became troubled. "It's you we've all been fretting over for the past two weeks and ten days. You have no idea of how badly you scared us."

Spencer frowned and licked his lips. They were dry, full of tiny wounds. "Two… weeks?" he rasped, hating the way his voice sounded. His throat was on fire.

"That's how long you've been in a hospital, kid." Derek winced, taking a mug of water that'd been sitting on the tiny table beside him. "I'm sorry about your throat. You've only been off the respirator for two days." The agent brought the mug close to his lips. "Your very own nurse for the day said that this might help, if you'd wake up. Slow, small sips, okay? This is no contest."

Spencer drank gratefully, each mouthful tasting like heaven although the water stung hellishly, hurt like acid. The thought made him wince. He ended up taking a too long sip and coughed loudly, in pain and startle gasping which only made him cough harder.

"Hey, didn't I tell you to take it easy?" Derek admonished but it came out barely even half heartedly. The agent's eyes were full of worry.

Spencer wiped his mouth and looked away, embarrassed and exhausted. So he couldn't even drink properly anymore. "Sorry." He then frowned, his mind spinning wildly. "JJ…?"

Derek grinned, just a little bit. It brought him a pleasant sensation of familiarity. "She's been here for days. You woke up for her once, when they lowered the dosage of your sedatives so that she could…" The man hesitated, which appeared disturbingly abnormal. "She… wanted me to tell you to hang on tight, in case you'd wake up."

Spencer nodded, unable to look at the other agent, and shivered. He had no clue what to say to that. Instead he chose to switch topic. His chest grew cold when a thought crossed him. "Auntie… Where…?"

"You… mean Mandy, right? The other UnSub?" Derek's face replied long before the man's mouth. There was an expression of rage and guilt. "She's… still on the run. But don't worry, we'll catch her. Until then I'll make damn sure that she won't hurt you again."

Spencer felt a stab of sadness. It would've been so nice to be able to trust those words, but… All of a sudden something crossed his mind, made his eyes widen. "Gideon…! Where…? Is he okay?"

Derek frowned, obviously completely lost. "What, Gideon…?" The man shook his head. "Kid, you… You must've been dreaming. We searched through the entire house and didn't catch a trace of Gideon. He couldn't have been there."

Those words made Spencer feel like someone had dropped a sledgehammer to his chest. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, each breath requiring far more effort than he would've been prepared for. He brought a hand to his chest when it began to hurt. Tears leaked to his cheeks.

Jason… If they hadn't found him he was still… Or then he was…

_Oh, no… Please no…!_

He shivered but didn't have the energy to protest when clearly agitated, worried Derek brought a oxygen mask to his face. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. This'll help you." The man took his hand, held on tight. As though afraid that he might slip away. "Try to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

Spencer did fall asleep, unable to resist. The nightmares were already waiting for him.

* * *

There was only a slight limp in Mandy's steps while she made her way towards a firmly locked, long ago abandoned warehouse. She gave her environment a long look, making sure that there were no prying eyes or security cameras, then pulled out a sharp knife. Her expression didn't change the slightest while she cut the skin of her shoulder slightly, in the end pulling out a tiny key. She paid no attention to the blood while she put away the key, then opened the warehouse's door. Almost complete darkness greeted her. She smiled, instantly relaxing slightly.

The dark made her feel at home. Reminded her of Bellringer.

"Mommy!" She blinked once, slightly startled, until Emma rushed towards her through the dark and wrapped a pair of arms around her, visibly excited. "I missed you."

She smiled slightly, ruffling the child's hair. It took a couple of moments before she spoke. "Where's our guest?"

Emma nodded towards the inner parts of the warehouse. "He's the'e, 'eading." The little girl seemed slightly disappointed. "He doesn't talk a lot."

"I know. Some people are like that." She began to walk forward, trying not to limp as much in front of Emma. "Now let's go and greet him, shall we?"

A tiny beacon of light led her to their guest. Just like Emma had said Jason Gideon was sitting there in a makeshift living room, a book he'd most likely found from her collection sitting on his lap. It didn't look like he'd focused on it a lot, though. He hadn't made it past page sixteen. She couldn't blame him, not after what he'd seen two weeks ago.

* * *

/ _The second the TV was switched on Jason's eyes widened to a nearly impossible extend. The screen had been divided to two parts. One half showed a hooded, bloodied and battered person sitting on a filthy floor, right at Doctor's feet. The other half showed Spencer, tied firmly to a surgical table. Jason's breathing was quick and shallow. Soon enough he'd start hyperventilating._

_Not feeling a hint of mercy Auntie began. "This round is fairly simple, Jason. There are two other players in this game, now. You can save one of them. Only one. Now, the only question goes…" She leaned closer, smelled his terror and rage. His _life_. He hadn't been this alive since he'd been taken in. "Is it going to be a mystery person – possibly someone you don't even know? Or is it going to be Spencer? Your former teammate. Your surrogate son. The one you brought to the FBI."_

_Tears rolled down Jason's cheeks, mixing together with blood. "You can't do this…!"_

_She smiled. "Yes, I can. And I will." She brushed his face with a far from gentle hand. "Now, tick tock. You've got thirty seconds."_

_The tears rolled faster as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The answer came in fifteen seconds. "Spencer", he breathed out. "It's… It's Spencer. I choose Spencer."_

_She nodded. "Alright." She brought her finger to her ear, knowing that Doctor was listening, waiting. "Remove the hood and finish up. He chose."_

_Doctor did as ordered. She'd never, ever heard the kind of a sound that was ripped from Jason when the hood was removed – to reveal the barely recognizable face of his son Steven. "NO! No, no, no, no! He's got nothing to do with this! Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him!"_

_Ignoring his screams and pleas she spoke while Doctor began the work, right before Jason's eyes. "You made your choice, Jason. There's no undoing it. This is your final round. In five minutes you'll be released from this chair. As soon as that happens take the envelope under the chair and read my note. This game is nearly over but you're about to start a new one soon." She began to leave. "Now, I've got another round to finish. It's a part of your round as well, to teach you the consequences of your choices." So saying she closed the door without looking back._ /

* * *

Mandy smiled. "Hello, Jason. I see that you're following the rules of this new game well."

"I read your letter." He glared at her with narrowed, venomous eyes. Finally, finally he seemed truly alive. "What the hell have you done to my grandson? Where is he?"

* * *

TBC, for an epilogue.

* * *

A/N: Uh huh… (gasps) That… was a rollercoaster! I'm actually exhausted after getting that one done. Phew!

Poor Reid. He's finally out of that hellhole but is he ever going to be the same? (winces) And Gideon's fate doesn't look any brighter.

**PLEASE**, leave a note – let me know how ya feel after finishing this beast of a chapter! The epilogue is ALMOST done but it'd be awesome to finish it with a lil' bit of support. So… Pwease…?

Until the next and (SNIFFS) last one! (I'm seriously going to miss this, can you believe it?) I REALLY hope you'll all stay tuned.

Peace out!

* * *

**Steph**: Indeed! Let's hope that the team actually came AND not too late.

Awww, you're DEFINITELY one. (grins and hugs) I'm excited to hear that you've enjoyed the ride and reviewed. I'm a embarrassingly lazy reviewer myself (a habit I'm trying to kick out), so it's a HUGE honor to me.

Massive thank yous for the AMAZING review!


	8. Epilogue – Reboot

A/N: The final chapter is upon us, folks! I seriously can't believe it. (sobs, then faints from shock) I hate the idea of letting this baby go but… Hey, all things come to an end, don't they? (sighs) However, before the finishing touches…

THANK YOU, so much, for every single one of your reviews! It's been a pretty stormy couple of weeks for me, so your support has been something that's helped me float. (hugs) So thank you!

Awkay… (gulps) Last chapters are always nerve wrecking, so let's get to it. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

Epilogue – Reboot

* * *

_Two Years Later_

* * *

"So, Dr. Reid… This is our last weekly session together. As from today we'll only see each other once a month. Do you have any concerns?"

Dr. Melissa Carlsson had been a psychiatrist for ten years, since the day she turned thirty. Yet she'd never seen the kind of an expression she did just then on Spencer Reid's face. His fingers squirmed restlessly, just like they did when she first met him. "I… still have panic attacks sometimes. And when someone grabs me, even if it's just a hold of my hand, I…" He trailed off, embarrassed.

"… lose it", Melissa filled in.

She succeeded in making Spencer's eyes brighten for the briefest second. "Yeah."

Melissa felt her own expression melt. She leaned just a little bit closer to the man, careful not to invade his private space. "Spencer… You've been my client for almost two years. During that time I've seen you heal far more than I would've ever imagined possible. You've opened up your scars. You've faced your demons." She sighed. "I won't lie to you. I doubt that you'll ever be the person you were before… those events. But there's no reason why you wouldn't be able to feel well again one day."

Spencer leaned back in his chair, a troubled look on his face. He looked very tired all of a sudden. "I'd love to believe that."

Melissa smiled. "One day you will. Trust me." She came to think of something. "Right now, I want you to name five things that you've been able to do again recently."

For a couple of seconds Spencer stared at her, visibly confused, then managed to speak. "Garcia… She had a flue, a couple of days ago, and the others were working on a case. I finally did my own grocery shopping." He swallowed. "It… was horrible, with so many strangers everywhere around me. I almost had a panic attack but I made it. I didn't even forget anything."

Melissa grinned, making notes without him noticing. "That's a huge step, Spencer. What else?"

Spencer thought about it for a moment. He didn't seem fully sure of himself. "Earlier this week… the others took me out for a dinner. The restaurant was a uncomfortable environment at first but they helped me relax. I didn't even notice the people giving me looks. I… actually felt hungry. I finished a full meal." That didn't sound like much but to Spencer it was a massive leap. The man licked his slightly scarred lips. "I've… slept without a nightlamp on for a while now. I probably sound like a kid for saying that."

Melissa shook her head. "Trust me when I say this, I doubt that you could ever be compared to a child." She took a swift glance towards the clock. They had only five minutes left. "Now, two more."

Spencer frowned, then seemed to come to think of something. "I don't know if this is even worth mentioning, but… Yesterday I cooked food that had meat in it for myself. The smell didn't make me throw up." All of a sudden the man's whole face lit up. For the first time during the session he looked directly at her. "After the meal I had a movie night with Morgan. He brought this Jackie Chan action comedy. I… laughed. Out loud."

Once again Melissa smiled. Warmth spread all the way through her. "To me it sounds like you've been moving forward more than either one of us had even realized." She then grew slightly more solemn. "But now… Since you've moved forward it's time to take a step you haven't been ready for until now."

Spencer frowned. A lot of the walls he'd build up around himself were up once again. "What step?" His voice was so tight that it almost squeaked.

Melissa took a moment before actually voicing it, before dropping the bomb. "I'm sure that you understand that a part of you died with Doctor and Auntie. That's why I want you to do something very difficult."

She could see him shiver. "What would that be?"

Her eyes softened but she didn't risk touching the man. "I need you to grieve the person you once were, so that you can accept and embrace who you've become."

* * *

As always after their sessions Spencer's head hurt when he emerged from Dr. Carlsson's huge office. His whole body shook so badly that he feared he wouldn't be able to walk much longer. There was a storm inside his aching skull. He gasped, rubbing his face furiously with one badly scarred hand.

A lot had changed over the past couple of years. For physical and escpecially psychiatric reasons it'd taken two months before he'd been discharged from the hospital. Spencer was grateful, more so than any words could ever express, that his team hadn't listened to his doctor and sent him to a psychiatric ward. That they hadn't given up, no matter how horrible things got.

He'd been in pain, physically and emotionally. He refused to sleep or eat. At first he clung desperately to his team, terrified of being alone. Alone the memories were his only company. He behaved as well as he could to avoid potential punishments. Once the first shock and fear faded anger set in. He didn't want _anyone_ around him. And he especially didn't want to be touched. Once, when he was in the middle of a particularly dark episode, Derek grabbed his wrist to snap him out of it. He punched the older man, before he even realized what was happening. He elso craved, more than ever before. Several nights slipped by with him shaking violently, his whole body covered in cold sweat and his mind swimming in the darkest of places. That dark desire was even worse than all the nightmares. The worst part, however, were the things he screamed at his friends, his _family_.

He blamed them, although he knew with all his reason that absolutely none of the things he'd gone through were their fault. He cursed them. He told them to go to hell. He told them that they should've just left him there to bleed. He told them that he wanted to die – that he was already dead, anyway. There was a time when he actually tried to die, just to get rid of the pain.

To this day Spencer couldn't understand why they'd put up with him through all that. They stood firmly beside him, held on to him and refused to let go, no matter how far on his way down he was. The insults, the setbacks, the physical therapy, the complications, the about a million trips to the hospital… They faced them all with him. And little by little the scars healed enough to reveal the person Doctor and Auntie hold moulded.

Spencer blinked slowly when the elevator's doors before him opened, and again when he entered and faced his reflection. Oddly enough the scars were what he was used to. His hair and eyes were what still startled him, even after almost two years.

Since Auntie had never been caught he'd taken a new name. Officially he was Isaac Thompson – only his friends, Melissa, his primary doctor in the hospital and his letters to his mother knew him as Spencer. He'd let his hair grow until he could braid them and dyed them darker, and preferred to use blue contact lenses. It didn't guarantee his safety, of course. If Auntie would meet him she'd recognize him immediately from his scars. That constant, nagging fear of her return was possibly the most disturbing thing in his current life. He also thought about both Emma and Jason Gideon every day. Although everyone kept telling him that Jason was never even there he knew what he saw. He could only hope that the man was still alive, out there somewhere. Or perhaps it would've been more merciful if he wasn't. And Emma, that sweet, innocent little girl…

The elevator stopped, forcing Spencer's mind back to the present. He walked out of the building as fast as he could and continued his way down the street. He walked on until he saw a very familiar car and froze with surprise.

_JJ?_

He made sure that there was no one watching, then crossed the street. He was about two steps away from the vehicle when she pushed the passenger's door open with a bright smile. "Hey, Spence. Garcia said that your session should be over by now."

One of his eyebrows rose. "I thought that you'd be working on that case."

JJ stiffened and looked away, clearly feeling guilty. "We… finished early."

Work was still a very touchy subject between him and the team. As soon as it became apparent that he had violent flashbacks and panic attacks whenever he saw crime scene photos, let alone entered an actual scene, the issue of whether he'd be able to do his job anymore was raised. The sight and especially the scent of blood, the bodies, all sorts of weapons and loud noises sent his mind and body into a state of chaos. He couldn't even think, not with how much he was feeling. His body wasn't all that co-operative, either. He still didn't have a very good stamina, he couldn't breathe as well as he should've, at times the damage done to his hands made them unable to function properly, often it _hurt_ to walk and he needed a huge amount of pills every day. It was almost a relief to him when he was told to resign by Erin Strauss. A week later he was approached by professor Ian Thorne and Dr. Tricia Stiles. They'd heard that he was a… exceptional scientist and offered him the opportunity to work on several research projects, including Alzheimer's disease and schizophrenia. He accepted in a heartbeat and hadn't regretted since. He enjoyed his new job and it gave him a sense of purpose. He wished his former teammates would believe that.

"I came to offer you a ride." JJ glanced towards the dark sky. "I know that you'd rather walk after these… sessions, but it's going to rain soon." True to her words, the first drops began to fall. "Besides, I want to show you something."

Not really finding it in him to protest Spencer slid into the car and closed the door. "Thank you." He gave her a look, then went on pointedly. "For everything."

JJ appeared slightly surprised while guiding the vehicle to a bigger street. "Well, you're welcome. But what brought this on?"

He shook his head, focusing on the rain falling outside. It felt easier to breathe, somehow. "Nothing."

They drove on in a very comfortable silence for a while until JJ spoke in a quiet, soft tone. "Spence…" He felt her look although his eyes remained on the world outside. "We'd go to hell and back for you. You do know that, right?" Of course he knew, because they already had. When they came for him Derek and Emily were both injured, they had to see him… _like that_… and then… "That's what a family does. We all love you, very much. Don't _ever_ forget that."

The words were right there, on the tip of Spencer's tongue, but for some reason he just couldn't voice them. So instead he took JJ's hand as she parked the car and held on tight. The way she held back revealed that she understood what he couldn't voice.

They sat like that for ages, reaching out to each other for strength and courage, until JJ cleared her throat. "I… Like I said, there's something that I… wanted to show you. Now, I think that you're finally ready." She swallowed. "Look to the right. And don't panic – I'm right here with you. They're all just memories."

Slowly, slowly – dreading what he'd find – Spencer turned his head. His stomach dropped and his eyes widened at what he found. It felt like he'd been stabbed all over again.

The house of horrors had been demolished well over a year and a half ago. He'd read all about it from the newspapers. But he saw the frame, along with grass and a beautiful, huge black stone that had something engraved to it. The air around the area… He felt sick to his stomach.

How could JJ…?

Once again JJ took his hand, even more firmly this time. "It's just a place, do you hear me? You will _never_, ever be harmed here again. I promise you." She squeezed his hand. "I'm here with you. We all are."

It wasn't until then Spencer noticed the people standing there, in pouring rain. Aaron Hotchner with a stone hard, strangely comforting look on his face. David Rossi giving him a nod of encouragement. Penelope Garcia with a look of sympathy and silent support. Emily Prentiss, her whole aura radiating the strength he wished he'd had.

And then Derek opened the car's door, held out a hand for him. There was a look of understanding and determination on the older man's face. "C'mon, kid. We'll help you through it."

Spencer hesitated for the longest time. And then accepted his best friend's hand. He felt the whole team right there behind him, with him, while he was led to the stone. In a moment he saw.

The words… They were names. The name of every single victim of Doctor and Auntie's horror house was right there, written on stone. To never be ignored again. To never be wiped away from this world. His eyes locked on a particular name.

'_Nathan Harris_'

"True, they didn't have a lot of people who would've cared about them when they were alive", David stated softly, quietly. "But this way… they'll never be forgotten."

Spencer felt someone's hand on his shoulder but didn't manage to look to see who it was. At that moment, as he stared at the stone, something broke inside him. Warm tears mixed with rain water on his cheeks; first one, then two, eventually a full, unstoppable flood.

There in pouring rain Spencer finally let himself fall apart completely, with his family right there to support him.

He grieved and wept over the loss of one Spencer Reid to welcome another one.

* * *

In the night of New York Regina Harris – or Ginger, as she was known on streets – was sadly aware of the fact that at the age of twenty-eight she'd screwed up her own life on several levels. She'd lied. She'd stolen. She'd walked away from absolutely everyone and everything that'd ever mattered to her. She'd chosen destruction instead of happiness.

She knew that she was beautiful, which was a great advantage in her current job. Long, red hair, big brown eyes, a body the others girls envied… She'd always been told that she had absolutely every opportunity in the world.

Was it sad or amusing that she'd chosen the worst one?

She shook away those thoughts upon discovering a rather expensive looking black car, parked into the shadows. She arched an eyebrow. Whenever there was an opportunity…

She took a deep breath, then pulled her tight, already extremely short red skirt even higher and created the flawless smile of seduction she always wore on duty. Her steps were slow and sensual while she approached the car, leaned closer when the window was opened for her. The driver, a man who seemed to be in his very late fifties with dark hair and nearly black, strangely haunted eyes, fixed a unreadable look towards her. She blinked twice upon recognizing him. He looked _horrible_. What the hell had happened to him? "Hi there, agent Gideon. It sure has been a while", she greeted. "Looking for company?"

"I want to play a game with you", the man told her, then opened the door. "But do me a favor. Don't ever call me 'agent' again."

Regina was slightly taken aback but quickly decided not to walk away from such a chance for good cash. As soon as she sat down and closed the door the car was moving. "Then… What should I call you?" she inquired.

The man's eyes darkened still, became dangerous. "I'm Teacher. You'll spend some time with me and Auntie."

Through the rearview mirror Regina just managed to see a woman sitting on the car's backseat. There was a blink of swift motion, then everything became completely dark.

* * *

Jason Gideon breathed loudly and laboriously, his unnaturally sharp eyes fixed firmly on the slippery road before him. His blood rushed so loudly that it almost deafened him. Almost. He could still hear the whimpers that Regina emitted in her drugged condition.

_Wake up_, he begged, tears stinging his eyes hellishly. _Wake up, and breathe._

After two years and three months it was impossible to pretend that he was having a nightmare. It was impossible to imagine a way out. Impossible to see a positive outcome.

Parking the car he wiped his eyes roughly before focusing reluctantly on Regina. A lump formed in his throat, almost suffocating him. Another lost and broken soul he was condemning to eternal damnation. These days he'd stopped imagining that the players could reach salvation. The rules had changed after Doctor's death the day Spencer was saved and Steven was…

"Don't look so sad", Auntie told him. "It always hurts Emma when you cry. Remember that we're saving souls."

Risking a lot, Jason unleashed a bitter laugh. "Is that honestly what you still call this?"

"Bold words from someone who has so much to lose." To confirm her words Auntie searched through her small bag, then handed him something. "A price for your efforts. You've earned them. This poor thing was a good catch."

Jason took the offered item, an envelope, greedily. Like a drowning man reaching out for a rope. It was opened in a flash. What he found brought tears to his eyes.

"Emma took these only days ago", Auntie told him. "They both look well, don't you think?"

A snapshot of his two and a half years old grandson Michael – who looked so much like his son that it _hurt_ – sitting on a swing, a radiant smile on his face. Spencer, walking down a street with a thoughtful look on his face. He'd gained just a little bit weight, Jason observed with a twinge of relief. The young man didn't appear as sick anymore. Another shot of Michael, safe in his foster mother's arms. Spencer, smiling ever so slightly at something he saw.

"Don't ever forget the deal." Auntie's voice was sharp, pointed. Left nothing to be questioned. "As long as you play this game nicely, they'll stay safe. Their safety is in your hands. Remember?"

A tear or two rolled, falling on the pictures. "How the hell could I ever forget?"

"Good." Auntie's voice was much lighter, almost happy. "Now, let's go. This one's game is about to begin."

Jason gathered Regina into his arms and followed Auntie, feeling chillingly numb. At that moment he finally understood something that should've crossed his mind a long time ago. The brutal, honest truth.

For him this game was never going to be over.

* * *

**_End._**

* * *

A/N: Oh… goodness me! I seriously can't believe that this is over. (gasps, and sobs a couple of times) This has been an AMAZING ride! I know that typing this probably makes a sadist out of me but I'm going to miss this story.

I know that this ending wasn't fully closed, but… Somehow I just couldn't bring myself to wrap it up any more than this. My head came up with this and refused to shift to any other direction. Am I making any sense, at all? (Probably not…) (sweatdrops)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for staying on board for this long! You guys have seriously made this ride a thousand times sweeter than it already was. So thank you! You'll never realize how precious you are. (HUGS)

Until next time, I hope, whichever project that may end up being with!

Thank you, and take care!

* * *

**Guest**: I'm BEYOND excited to hear that you've enjoyed the story so much! (beams) I really hope that the epilogue won't fall flat in your book, either.

Massive thank yous for the review!


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